


Knight Ode

by skyfangirl



Series: The Show Goes On [2]
Category: Octopath Traveler (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Porn With Plot, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-13
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-06-26 21:02:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 29,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15671238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skyfangirl/pseuds/skyfangirl
Summary: Set after Primrose's Chapter Three: The badly wounded dancer reaches out to Olberic for comfort and finds much more.





	1. Chapter 1

_The knife slides home, deep into her belly. "Wh-what...? Simeon?"_

_The white haired man stands over her, watching her intently. Was he memorizing her face? The pain was making it difficult to focus._

_"But...but why? Simeon...!"_

_A wide grin splits his face, twisting his features from the ones which had been so familiar to her. "The head of the Obsidians? The crow atop the roost? The one who killed your dear, dear father? It was me."_

_"It was me." The voice echoes in her pain-dulled brain, dripping with contempt. Amusement. Laughter._

_"It was me." Her one true love._

_"It was me." All of her pain, all of her loss, all because of him._

_"Simeon..." She moans, falling to her knees. Her mind races, memories flashing by too quickly for her to focus. Her father watching her dance. Her father dying in his study. Simeon comforting her. Simeon reading poetry to her. Simeon walking away, her blood spattering the tattoo on his neck._

_"Lady Primrose!" Strong hands catch her as she sinks to the ground, blackness overwhelming her._

* * *

Primrose groans, pulling herself out of bed. "Was it all a dream?" She winces, newly knitted muscles protesting every time she shifts positions. "No...not a dream. That nightmare was all too real."

The door clicks open and a slender blonde enters the room bearing a cloth covered tray. "There you are, Lady! Welcome back. Alfyn assured us it would take but a day or so, but you seemed content to lay about for longer than that. How do you feel?"

The dancer frowns slightly. "How long?"

Ophilia shifts her weight before setting the tray down at the end of the bed. "Three days since you...since you were hurt."

Three days. Simeon.

"I need to go, I need to find..." Primrose swings her legs around in an attempt to stand but the traitorous limbs abandon her as soon as her feet touch the ground. A white glow suffuses her companion briefly and a dull warmth envelopes her body leaving her feeling less pain but no more strength. Ophilia scowls at the dancer as she guides her firmly back into bed.

"Sleep. Rest. Healing. That's what you need to find, Lady. Enough of this, why you're as weak as a kitten."

_A dingy room. A rasping voice. "Purr for me, kitten."_

"NO!" she cries out, lunging at the shocked cleric. "No! Never again!" The dancer, half mad with rage and terror, curls her hand into a fist and swings wildly at her shocked companion. Memories claw unbidden to the surface of her exhausted mind and she lashes out, the beginning incantations of powerful dark magic tumbling from her lips.

"Lady Primrose!" Olberic's bellow lances through the room, stunning both women into silence. "Cease this at once!" Moving faster than one would expect from a man of his size the knight dashes across the room, inadvertently knocking the cleric to the ground as he puts his body in front of her to shield her from harm.

The dancer freezes, the remainder of the spell dying on her trembling lips. She shakes her head abruptly to clear the cobwebs and blinks at her companions as if just recognizing them, realizing for the first time exactly where she is and worse, what she was about to do. "Oh Ophilia...I'm so...I'm so..." An anguished sob escapes her and she breaks down entirely, a decade's worth of tears pouring out of her. The knight tentatively reaches towards the hysterical dancer and rests his hand on her shoulder. Instinctively she leans into him, wrapping her arms around him as the grief overwhelms her.

Ophilia gazes at Olberic and Primrose in astonishment. She gathers herself off the floor and slips out the door, leaving the pair alone.

Gradually Primrose gains control of herself and relinquishes her hold on the silent knight. "I...My apologies, Sir Olberic. I do not know what came over me." She scrubs at her eyes in irritation and runs her fingers through her long auburn hair.

Olberic rises, clearing his throat. "No need, Lady. You went through quite a terrible ordeal. One can hardly blame you for being distressed."

She chuckles softly. "Distressed. Indeed. Still, I am sorry that you had to see me-", she pauses, gazing down at her hands, "that you had to see that."

The knight turns towards her slowly, running his eyes over her before responding. "Lady Primrose, you are the very last person who needs to be apologizing. In truth, I should beg your forgiveness. I've long held out hope that there was a tender heart beneath the sharp edges of the world weary performer...though the circumstances are deeply regrettable, I hope you can forgive me for my momentary relief at catching a glimpse at the woman behind the facade."

She sits silently for a moment, her auburn head bowed. "I think that perhaps Sister Ophilia was correct, Sir Olberic. I need to rest."

He murmurs, "As you wish, my Lady," as he turns towards the door.

"Olberic?"

"Hm?"

"I don't..." She takes a deep breath, regaining a bit of her composure and lifting her head to gaze steadily into his concerned grey eyes. "I'd rather not be alone with my thoughts just yet. Please stay."


	2. Chapter 2

Olberic's eyes widen slightly. "Would you not prefer the company of Sister Ophilia or perhaps H'aanit...?"

She chuckles softly, trying in vain to hide a wince as she stretches and rolls her shoulders. "No, I would not. The Sister is sweet but she and Alfyn are trying to mother me to death, and H'aanit...I would prefer your company." She tilts her chin, gazing up at him through her thick lashes. "If you are willing." Primrose keeps her expression carefully neutral as various hints of curiousity and discomfort flitter over the big warrior's face. In a former life, she would have made a meal out of a man like this just for the sport of it. Olberic was different though. Perhaps she was different now, too.

Her musing and the knight's growing unease are interrupted by a knock followed immediately by the door swinging open. Alfyn strides in, his cheery voice calling out a greeting as he rummages through his satchel. The young apothecary sorts through his various remedies and keepsakes, chattering away without taking any notice of the two people in the room. "...so that's when Zeph mentions this tincture, and I thought of it today and figured it might work just great on that scar of yours, Miss, and...oh! Hey there, Sir! Didn't see you there! Did you need some medicine, or were you here flirtin' with our poor wounded bird here? Not really fair to pick on the poor girl when she's down, Sir Knight, but maybe that's how they do it back in Hornburg, eh?" He beams broadly at the pair, completely oblivious to their awkward silence.

Olberic shifts his weight, clearing his throat. "Actually, I was just about to check in on H'aanit and Therion, see if they've discovered anything new for us."

Primrose frowns slightly, annoyance rising to replace the despair she'd wallowed in a few moments before, but she quickly smooths her expression as Alfyn approaches to check her dressings. It was difficult to maintain her customary air of irritated disinterest around the perky apothecary and her current train of thought about Olberic definitely needed some more exploring. Later. "Do come back and let me know what they've turned up, Sir Olberic...that is, unless my keeper here is willing to let me take a stroll later...?"

Both men objected to that idea; a little too quickly for the dancer's liking, but for the moment she was in no position to argue.

"Now Miss, we can't just let you scamper around town, you might pop a stitch or worse!"

"My Lady, we only just got you back to your feet, we can hardly let you risk yourself so soon."

She sighs softly, drumming her nimble fingers on the coverlet. They weren't wrong, exactly, it just galled her to be told to sit and stay. "Well, then. I guess you'll just have to come fill me in later then, lest I get restless and decide to go pry information out of some people my own way." She looks directly at Olberic, an arch smile playing about her lips. "Perhaps I'll nap a bit, if Alfyn ever finishes prodding at me."

Alfyn gasps in mock horror, clutching at his chest. "Prodding! Well! Up with that shirt then, and let's have at it!"

Primrose complies, leaning back against the pillows and lifting the hem of her oversized linen shirt to expose her slender, well-toned abdomen. While that particular expanse of skin was nothing the men hadn't seen before, particularly considering her normal revealing attire, for some reason a flush crept up Olberic's neck at the sight of her faintly tanned skin. "Right. I shall leave you to your duties, apothecary. My Lady, if you will excuse me."

"Do come back later, Sir Olberic."

Olberic sketches out a brief bow and strides out the door, closing it firmly behind him. Primrose stares absently at the spot he recently vacated until a soft cough from Alfyn draws her gaze back to him. "Hmm? You said something?"

"Now, why d'ye have to go and torture that poor man, Miss. He doesn't strike me as your normal victim."

The dancer narrows her eyes slightly, seeing the seemingly oblivious country boy in a new light. "I'm not sure I follow, Alfyn."

"I'm sure ye do, Miss. Sir's a good man, and I'm not judgin' your ways in the least, mind, but he doesn't strike me as the type to do anythin' too...casual, like. Y'know? Not meanin' any offense." His hands move quickly and surely as he talks, cleaning her wound and changing her dressing with hardly a downward glance needed.

"I'm not torturing him, and you would have to work pretty hard to offend me," she answers firmly, her eyebrows drawn together in a thoughtful frown. "Olberic and I were just...getting to know each other a bit better, that's all."

"Mmhmm. Just have a care, Miss. That one's got a past that might not be as checkered as some-" Alfyn scratches at his head, avoiding her gaze before continuing, "But a past nonetheless. You never know what might fall out if you go shaking too many trees, y'know?" He finishes tying off the bandage and steps back to admire his work without waiting for her reply. "Magnificent! Ogen couldn't do any better himself! Now then, you'd best eat whatever's on that tray and get yourself to sleep, Miss Primrose. Everyone's been taking turns sitting vigil, as it was, but since you're feeling more yourself again maybe we can relax the guard duty. Just a smidge."

He smiles at her, tucking her blankets around her like a child. She finds the gesture oddly comforting and yawns in spite of herself. "Maybe a nap isn't the worst idea."

"Fair enough, but I'll expect you to eat something as soon as you're up. Don't make me send Tressa in to sing her suppertime song!" Alfyn waggles a finger at her admonishingly.

Primrose blinks at him. "She has a...nevermind, of course she has a supper song. I will eat something shortly, you have my word." She burrows deeper into the blankets as the apothecary exits, shutting the door behind him. Alone with her thoughts at last, her mind flashes to Simeon's sneering face as he looms over her dying body. She wills the image away, replacing it with the memory of Olberic's powerful arms as he cradles her, carrying her off to safety. A smile curling her lips, she drifts off to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

_"Please stay."_

Her words, softly spoken in that lovely throaty voice, echo through his whirling mind. Primrose was many things, charming and flirtatious very high on that particular list, but this felt different, somehow. Her vulnerability, the plea in her eyes...Olberic had seen the beautiful young dancer use her looks and wiles to persuade both men and women to do many things over the course of their travels, but the way she looked at him just now felt...genuine. Then again, how many other people had thought the same thing?

The warrior sighs in frustration, running his hands through his thick black hair and setting off at a brisk pace down the wide street as his mind wandered. It was hardly the first time a woman had shown interest in him, but pursuit of the fairer sex had never been one of his priorities. Service to king and country and the long days of training required to stay at the top of his field had consumed most of his adult life. Even after the fall of Hornburg he'd avoided falling into the trap of many downtrodden men before him: after a few weeks, the endless spiral of cheap ale and tavern wenches failed to offer him any comfort and he'd finally settled in Cobbleston. The locals in that small town took his sullen silences and serious demeanor in stride and gave him his space for the most part, allowing him privacy and taking care not to ask too many questions once it was clear that the 'hedge knight' was willing to protect them as long as he was around.

Protecting those villagers was exactly how he met the dancer, as it happened. Chance had led her graceful feet right to his doorstep and her dark magics and battle prowess had proven invaluable in his mission to rescue his young squire, Philip, from the bandits who had attacked the sleepy town. Was it chance, or fate? Either way, he was deeply grateful for her presence that afternoon and every day since, and while neither of them seemed terribly inclined to open up about their pasts beyond sharing what was necessary to accomplish their personal quests, two things were becoming very clear: whatever lay behind them would not stay buried forever, and neither of them intended to shy away when the time came to deliver some justice. Judging by the week Primrose had had and the depths of her sorrow following the confrontation with the pair of crows here in Noblecourt, it seemed that her past was coming to bear now, and it did not seem to be what she had anticipated. The dancer was shaken to her core and suffering a major blow in what was proving to be the fight of her life and Olberic Eisenberg, the Unbending Blade of Hornburg, was not the sort of man to let his brothers- or sisters-in-arms fight alone.

Abruptly, the knight realizes that his feet have led him directly to the local tavern. Squaring his shoulders, he enters the well lit establishment and ambles across the room to join a familiar figure at the only shadow-touched table. Signalling to the barkeep to send over a flagon of his finest, Olberic takes a seat opposite the slender blond man.

"Oh sure, by all means, pull up a chair."

"Good evening to you as well, Master Therion," the knight replied, blithely ignoring the young thief's sarcastic greeting. The boy put on a fine show of being an ill-mannered reprobate, but Olberic had seen through that prickly veneer more than once on their journey. There was a good heart beneath all the barbs and daggers, and despite his constant complaints and denials, Therion had proven to be a loyal companion and valuable member of their team. "Lady Primrose has awakened at last."

Therion flicks his eyes towards the big man before resuming his careful watch of the crowd in the tavern. "I figured." When the knight simply stared at him patiently, he elaborated. "I saw the Sister running through here earlier to fetch Alfyn. Ophilia looked a bit off, she didn't stick around to remind me to behave myself today. She looked agitated, but not sad. Everything alright?"

Olberic pauses, considering how to answer. "Her health improves, thankfully."

The thief takes a long pull off his drink, eyeing the knight carefully. "...but?"

Olberic frowns, silently cursing his inability to hide things from this far too perceptive youngster. "She is in turmoil. She...wept."

Therion raises an eyebrow, waiting.

"On me. She embraced me and wept. She...ah..." The knight hesitates, staring at the bottom of his mug. When had he finished his mead?

Therion gazes at him silently.

Olberic sighs. "She asked me...to stay. With her."

The thief stares blankly at his increasingly uncomfortable companion for the space of several heartbeats until he can no longer stand it and finally bursts out laughing. "Aeber's hands, man, why are you here talking to me? Are you crazy? Get over there!"

Frowning, the knight quietly replies, "I really don't think you understand..."

Therion smirks, waving a tavern girl over for another round. "Oh, I  _really_  think that I do. Do  _you_?"

Olberic snorts. "Of course I do. I am not some rosy cheeked squire, fresh off the farm. I am well aware of what she's offering."

"So? What's the problem?"

"It's not as simple a matter as you are making it."

Therion taps his nose, nodding slowly. "Ahh, I get it. It's that Erhardt. The one you're after."

"What has Erhardt to do with my issue with Lady Primrose?"

"You tell me, big guy. Conflict of interests? Not sure which way to swing the sword? I hear ya. Love is a battlefield, they say."

Olberic scowls. "Are you quite finished? One has nothing to do with the other. Erhardt was my brother, it was nothing like you are implying. Lady Primrose is a different matter entirely and you know it."

Therion chuckles, patting the warrior on the shoulder. "Oh calm down, I had to ask. It's a fair question, the way you're chasing the guy from one end of the world to another, hollering about your unbent blade."

"Sometimes I find myself questioning why I speak to you at all." The frustrated knight rises, tossing a coin purse on the table.

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry. I yield!" Therion throws up his hands in mock surrender. "Seriously Olberic, what's the problem? Prim's been out in the world, she knows a thing or two. You can't possibly think you're exploring any uncharted territory here..."

Olberic lunges forward suddenly, looming over the slender blond man. "What the Lady Primrose knows or does not know is none of our concern, Master Therion. Her past is her own, and it is not for you or I to judge."

Therion stares at him without flinching. "Great, glad you feel that way. I happen to agree. I never was much for the untouched damsel in a lofty tower schtick. What fun is that? So it's not her past, it's nothing in your present, unless I've missed something recently. What's stopping you?"

The knight slouches back in his chair, swirling his mug and staring into its depths. "What can I possibly offer her? I'm a knight of nowhere in service to a dead king. All I have my swordarm and my quest to bring Erhardt to justice."

"Uh huh. And she's the last daughter of a ruined House on a revenge mission of her own. Sounds like someone who could use a swordarm, hm?"

Shifting slightly in his chair, Olberic scowls into his mug. The thief wasn't wrong. And yet...

"None of us are guaranteed tomorrow, Sir Olberic. Sometimes you're better off not overthinking these things. She wasn't asking you to marry her, right? Anyways, you need to figure something out and quick. Avoiding Primrose is a terrible idea and it's not going to work."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because she's standing behind you."

Olberic finds his feet in an instant, whirling around to find...no one but a perplexed serving girl. He turns back to admonish Therion but the thief has vanished along with the knight's coin purse. Laughing in spite of himself, the warrior fishes a handful of leaves out of his surcoat and tosses it onto the table, taking the flagon of mead with him as he heads into the night.


	4. Chapter 4

Primrose sits up, gasping for breath. Slowly regaining her composure in the dark room, she notes that in her panicky attempts to escape her nightmares, she's managed to knock all the pillows off her bed. Easing her way to the floor to collect them, she notices a strange powdery substance dusting the pillows' surface. She gathers a bit between her fingertips, rubbing it back and forth and studying it closely. "Sleeping dust," she murmurs. "Thanks ever so much, Alfyn, for the assist." She sighs softly, knowing the apothecary meant well, but wishing he hadn't tried to force the rest on her. One more thing for her to watch out for.

Carefully keeping them away from her face, she removes the pillowcovers and tosses them onto a chair. Eyeing the pile critically, she shuffles over to the washbasin and thoroughly rinses her hands, splashing her face liberally with the cool water. Her sleep-fogged brain clears almost immediately and she continues her ablutions, running a comb through her long auburn hair and humming softly to herself. A cursory search of the room yields no clothing save for the oversized linen shirt she's wearing, and she idly wonders who undressed her and where her street clothes were. Alas. For all her earlier bravado, she was definitely not feeling up to the task of leaving anyway, so the shirt would have to do for now.

She settles herself at the table and begins to pick at the plate of fruit that Ophilia set out for her when there is a soft knock at the door. Without hesitation she calls out, "Come in, Sir Olberic."

The tall knight enters the room with a bemused expression on his handsome face. "How did you know, m'Lady? Am I that predictable?"

She leans back, chuckling softly. "No, my dear, you're just that polite. No one else bothers to knock anymore." She smiles up at him and gestures towards the other chair. "Please. Join me."

"I...thank you." He settles himself in the chair and produces the flagon of mead. "Care for a drink?"

"You have no idea." She reaches for the flagon and takes a long pull, enjoying the familiar burn at the back of her throat. "Not bad. Not quite the top shelf of my father's cellars, as they were, but not bad."

Olberic smiles at her. "I should apologize for how I left earlier..."

"No, please. I was wrong to be so forward. I shouldn't have-"

He frowns at her. "Pray do not apologize, Lady Primrose, and I beg of you, let me finish."

The dancer settles back in her chair, idly picking at a loose thread hanging from the sleeve of her borrowed shirt.

Clearing his throat, the knight begins again. "I truly must apologize for leaving you earlier, m'Lady. You were distressed and asking for my help, and I fear I misread things and ran like a coward. It is truly not in my nature to do such a thing when a friend is in need, and I beg your forgiveness, though I hardly deserve it."

Primrose runs her eyes over the warrior, carefully choosing her words. "There is nothing at all to forgive, Sir Olberic. I'm quite sure you read me correctly earlier, and I most definitely should apologize to you. I was terribly forward and it appears that my timing and intentions were...off." She glances down at her hands, lacing her fingers together. "I shouldn't have made you uncomfortable. 'Distressed', as you call it, is rather an understatement. I truly hope you'll forgive my...momentary lapse in judgement. You're a better man than I deserve and I am grateful to call you my friend, truly."

Olberic rises and paces towards the window. "You are entirely too hard on yourself, m'Lady. 'Deserve'? Faugh. You are a gentle, kind soul who has been thrust into tragedy who did what was required in order to survive, and I am not nearly as good as you seem to think I am, though I appreciate your favorable opinion. Brand above knows that I have many failings. I would prefer to not have to add hurting you to that tally. As to the rest, your timing may not have been ideal, but..." He pauses, turning to regard her.

The dancer tilts her head up, gazing at him through her thick lashes.

"I did not process it at the time, heat of the moment and all that, but it nearly shattered me to see you lying there, bleeding out. Had that craven not fled when he did, I'm certain I would have cut him in two." The knight turns away again, staring out the window into the night. Primrose leans forward, watching him intently. "It was all I could do not to chase him down. I cannot guarantee my restraint should I see him again." He bows his head momentarily. "Seeing you there, not knowing if you were alive or...Even now, knowing you are alright, I cannot bear to think about what could have happened. I carried you back here praying to the Twelve with every breath, desperately hoping to save you, and never in my wildest dreams did I dare to imagine that you would ever look upon me the way you did today. Lady Prim-"

He turns back to face her and suddenly she was there. She reaches for him tentatively and he steps forward, gathering her into his arms. "Olberic?" she murmurs, staring into his eyes.

"Yes, m'Lady?"

"Stop talking and kiss me."

"Yes, m'Lady." He bends his head and claims her lips and she melts into him, her hands sliding up his back so her fingers can entwine themselves in his thick black hair. He pulls her closer, deepening the kiss, his hands dropping to her waist to hold her tightly against him. After a moment they come up for air, both breathing raggedly, searching each other's eyes. At some unspoken signal they close the space between them once more. Olberic slides one hand down to grip the back of Primrose's thigh and she doesn't hesitate to hook her leg around the knight's waist. He repeats the gesture with his other hand, readjusting his grip to lift her up and turns, pressing her back against the wall.

Primrose gasps suddenly, her breath leaving her in a hiss as the change in position sends a jolt of pain stabbing through her midsection. Olberic pulls back immediately, his steely grey eyes studying her face anxiously. "What is it? Did I harm you?"

The dancer tilts her head back to rest against the wall behind her. Olberic relaxes his hold on her waist and she tightens her legs in response, not wanting to let go of him quite yet. "Primrose?"

"I'm fine. Really. I think..." She looks down, feeling a spreading warmth on her abdomen that was quite different than the fire uncoiling deep within her belly just a moment ago. "I think my stitches came loose. Alfyn is going to kill me."

"I would dearly love to see him try," the knight rumbles.

Primrose laughs in spite of herself and swats at the big man's shoulder. "Come, put me down before you tear me in half, you monster. I need to change these bandages before I ruin this shirt."

He brushes the top of her forehead with his lips and releases her, setting her carefully on the ground. He shifts his weight and watches her cross the room to dig through the discarded supplies from earlier that evening. "That was mine, you know. The shirt."

She glances back over her shoulder at him, smiling archly. "Do you want it back?"

"Perhaps later. In truth, it looks far, far better on you."


	5. Chapter 5

Sunrise came far too early in Olberic's estimation. Perhaps the drink was to blame; he hadn't indulged in that much mead in years. Then again, perhaps the chronically early riser was simply content to lay abed and enjoy the feeling of the beautiful woman nestled in his arms. He glances down at her, trying not to disturb her rest. Her glossy waves of red-gold hair frame her delicately featured face, so peaceful in her repose without her customary carefully maintained expression of aloof disdain. Unable to resist, he gently brushes a stray curl away from her slightly parted lips. He holds his breath momentarily but releases it cautiously when she fails to respond. Regardless of her protests to the contrary, he felt intense guilt for hurting her last night. She had argued with him, insisting on taking most of the blame but the incident weighed on him, particularly because his lecherous brain refused to cease replaying the memory of her legs wrapped around his hips, their bodies pressed together with only layers of fabric between them. A knight of the highest order in Hornburg, he was supposed to maintain control of his emotions, mind, and body, and yet one word from this woman had put him in a tailspin ending with her wound reopened and him in her bed trying to justify his wanton behavior. Dwelling on it made him uneasy, it had been years since anyone penetrated his defenses so effortlessly. Then again, Primrose Azelhart was hardly just 'anyone', was she?

She shifts in his arms suddenly, one long bare leg having escaped the tangle of sheets to hook over his leg. His traitorous hand seemed to have a mind of its own, leading his fingertips on a slow glide down her side to trail along her hip and trace slow circles the length of her thigh to her knee. "Careful, Sir Knight, lest you start something you dare not finish," she murmurs, her low voice thick with sleep.

He chuckles softly. "I did not intend to wake you, apologies m'Lady."

"Mm. Good thing I was awake already then." She stretches, arching her back with a soft groan, and rearranges herself more comfortably against him, one arm draped across his chest and her face nuzzling his neck, just below his ear. She taps his leg with her foot, calling his attention back to the hand still cupping the back of her thigh. "I didn't say you had to stop, you know," she says quietly, her lips grazing his neck and sending goose flesh down his arms and a surge of blood to his all-too-eager groin.

He steadies himself with a deep breath before releasing her leg with a chuckle, tugging at the sheet to cover them both and discreetly taking a moment to adjust his trousers. Clasping her hand in his, he raises her palm to his lips for a gentle kiss. "It is taking every drop of self control that I possess to stop myself, madam, I assure you. You are not making this easy on me, you know."

She exhales in frustration. "It wasn't your fault, Olberic."

"Nevertheless, I cannot bear the thought of causing you harm. If that means we must delay our...satisfaction...for a few days while you rest and heal, so be it. I would not be able to live with myself should my selfish desire for you make your injury worse or delay your quest further." He tilts her chin towards him with one finger, running his thumb gently over her lower lip. "Do not think for a second, though, that it is not torturing me to wait. You are the most amazing woman I have ever known, and I swear that I have never wanted anything more in my life."

She leans over him, lying atop his chest and kissing him deeply. He buries his hands in her hair, holding her close and relishing the feel of her weight pressing into him. Abruptly she pulls away from him, sitting up to study his face. He strokes her cheek with the back of one hand, folding the other arm behind his head. "My past...the things I've done. None of that bothers you?"

"Does mine bother you?"

She huffs and draws her knees up to rest her chin atop them, her rich hazel eyes gazing at him intently. "You know what I mean. You know what I am, what I was."

"My dear, what you were and what you have been through was all just a series of steps to bring you here and now. I had feared to come back to you last night, you know, believing that all I had to offer you was the ghost of my former self: the disgraced knight who let king and country fall. Luckily, a friend pointed out the folly in letting the darkness in my past close me off to the possibility of happiness in my present."

She tilts her head. "Ophilia?"

He chuckles. "Therion, actually. You look as surprised as I was. The boy is far more insightful than I gave him credit for."

"Interesting. I need to remember that." She closes her eyes, rolling her shoulders and stretching out her neck.

A sudden rumble from Olberic's belly reminds them both that the day is moving on whether they like it or not. He smiles ruefully and pats her knee, swinging his legs out of bed and standing up with a groan and a stretch of his own. "Would you do me the honor of joining me for breakfast?"

"Do I get to know what happened to my clothes, or do you intend to keep me in yours forever? Unless you'd like to have this back now...?" She indicates her...his...shirt with a sly grin.

He blushes causing a gentle peal of laughter to spill from Primrose. Unsure if he's ever heard her laugh so often before, he decides that he rather enjoys the sound and grins back at her, shaking his head. "Your other attire was quite ruined, unfortunately. I had thought Sister Ophilia was going to send something up once you awoke."

Primrose frowns, clearly remembering her last encounter with the blonde cleric. "I see. I doubt she still wishes to come around."

Olberic finishes buttoning his surcoat and reaches for his boots. "Nonsense. I am quite certain she will be around. Nevertheless, I will go downstairs and see about finding her or Tressa. At worst, I will bring you something to break your fast while we figure out the rest. Is that acceptable, my Lady?"

The dancer smiles, crossing the room to pull the warrior close to her in a tight hug. "Prim. Or Primrose, if you must. I think we are quite past this 'milady' business, hm?"

He brushes her lips with a gentle kiss. "Old habits, my...Prim. I will do my best."

She raises herself on her toes to draw him down to another kiss, reluctantly releasing him after a long moment. "My Prim. I could get used to that." Slipping out of his arms, she turns away and heads towards the washbasin. "You had better go, before I change my mind and try and lure you back to bed." The knight readjusts his swordbelt and then reaches for the doorknob. "Olberic?"

He pauses, cocking his head.

"For the love of the Twelve, please do not let Tressa pick my clothing. Or Cyrus. Gods, I have no idea which would be worse."

Olberic barks out a laugh and bows slightly, shutting the door firmly behind him.


	6. Chapter 6

Olberic descends the staircase quickly, only taking care to quell his smile a moment before he crosses into the common area. He has no idea which of his companions he will be joining at this hour and absolutely no desire to give anything away, particularly to young Therion. The pale-haired rogue was too cocky by half and Olberic had no intention of listening to any variation of "I told you so". A quick scan of the room reveals a distinct lack of smirking thieves but judging by the mirthful expression on Alfyn's face, the knight wasn't sure that the apothecary and scholar were a much better option.

"Well good  _morning_ , Sir Olberic! How was your...sleep?" Alfyn pats the bench next to him, grinning up at the knight.

Olberic bows slightly, his expression carefully neutral. "Restful. I hope all is well with you gentlemen."

"Oh, splendid! Why I was just telling Alfyn here how much I admired your vigor. You must have been at it quite early this morning," Cyrus greeted him amiably.

Olberic raises his eyebrow. "I beg your pardon?"

"Your strict training regimen. I pride myself on being something of an early riser, but you were up and out so early today that I daresay your bed has nary a wrinkle."

Alfyn laughs, clapping a hand on the mage's shoulder. "Sir Olberic here is notorious for his rigorous training schedule. Why, I imagine he was up for most of the night drilling away while the rest of us lay abed," he winks at the large warrior. "Just pace yourself, sir, we can't have ya wearing yourself thin, now. I can only take care of so many patients at once before I overextend myself here."

Olberic stares at Alfyn silently for a moment. A serving girl approaches and he occupies himself ordering an assortment of breakfast items to bring back up to Primrose's room. When he finishes, the men's conversation has turned to the dancer and her recovery.

"Not to overstep here, but I recall stumbling upon some reading in years past which may help," Cyrus interjects. Olberic opens his mouth to reply but the scholar was already off and running. "I found the most intriguing scrolls detailing exercise techniques of an ancient sect of wise men. Controlling your respiration and heart rate, muscle extension, that sort of thing. Perhaps young Primrose might benefit from a bit of deep stretching and strengthing her chest muscles. Have you examined her thoroughly?"

Alfyn barely contains a grin. "Oh aye, she's recovering quite well. Strong girl. I saw to her wounds earlier, but I suspect good Sir Olberic here gave her a much more thorough exam. Would y'say she needs some deep stretching there, Sir Olberic? How was her breathing?" He leans forward, grinning openly now. "Are you feeling alright? I'm not sure I've ever seen someone turn quite that shade of red..."

"That...will be quite enough, thank you Alfyn. Cyrus, I will be sure and relay your suggestions to Lady Primrose," Olberic rises, nodding politely to the scholar. "Now then, if one of you would be so kind as to track down Sister Ophilia while I bring some food up? We need to see about some clothing to replace what the Lady lost."

"Oh! Do let me assist with that, Sir Olberic! It would be my honor to help select some attire for our fair dancer!" Cyrus beams up at the knight.

Olberic's eyes widen. "I...Ah...While I appreciate the offer, I simply could not impose..."

"Nonsense!" Cyrus beamed. "T'would be my pleasure! I know just the place, as it happens. My very own personal tailor comes from Noblecourt and maintains a small shopfront here!"

A vein was beginning to throb in the tall knight's temple. Alfyn's shoulders shake from silent laughter at Olberic's obvious discomfort. The apothecary gains control of himself long enough to interrupt, reminding Cyrus that he'd promised to assist H'aanit identify some of the local flora before they left the area. Olberic looks at him gratefully, gathers the breakfast tray and takes his leave before the exuberant scholar can come up with a way to accomplish both tasks.

* * *

"Oh, that wretched boy. Amused, was he? Do not fret over it, I will wipe that smirk off his face for him when I see him again," Primrose gestures pointedly with a cheese knife.

"I sincerely doubt he will bring it up so freely in front of you, Prim. This sort of ribbing is quite common amongst the men in the barracks, but it is not something generally repeated in front of the women." Olberic leans back, watching her eat. "I should not have troubled you with such nonsense."

The dancer chuckles at him. "Trust me, I have been subjected to far worse than a snickering country boy."

Olberic reaches towards her, covering her slender fingers with his calloused hands. She smiles at him, her lips parting slightly when he turns her hands over in his and brushes his lips against each of her palms. "Alfyn is harmless, but I will not tolerate any disrespect."

She sighs and scoops up the breakfast tray, dropping her knife onto it with a clatter, then leans across him to deposit it on the table next to the bed. She turns back and closes the distance between them, facing him and kneeling to straddle his legs. Not quite trusting her self control after their all too brief encounter the previous night she maintains a bit of space between them, holding her hips just above his lap. The dancer rests her arms on his broad shoulders, idly running her fingers through his thick black hair. "You are going to be a terribly busy man if you insist on making an example out of everyone who comments about me, you know."

His hands rest lightly on her hips, thumbs moving in slow circles on her stomach. "If I do it properly, it should only take one or two..."

She grins at him, hazel eyes sparkling with amusement. "I am being serious, Olberic. I dance. I enjoy the feeling, the power of being able to capture the attention of everyone in a room, of making them forget themselves for a time, and I don't intend to stop. Part of that hold leads to men flirting and making crude suggestions you might not wish to hear." She gives his hair an affectionate tug. "I need to be sure you are not going to carve up every leering fool we encounter in our travels and whatever lays beyond. I enjoy our time together and I'm looking forward to exploring things between us, but I am not in need of a keeper. I never was."

"Having you at my side is a gift. Being permitted to take you in my arms is a blessing I did not expect and do not deserve. I am not going to do anything to jeopardize that, I promise you. My sword and shield are yours, along with anything else you desire, for as long as you wish to possess them." He applies slight pressure, his large hands pressing her hips closer to his and she inhales sharply at the contact, tightening her legs to hold him against her. "You navigated this world just fine before I came along, I do not doubt your ability to continue to do so. If you need me, however, I am here."

He shifts his hips slightly, his growing bulge now resting directly beneath her heated core. She kisses him hard, grinding her hips against him as their tongues dance. His hands find their way under the hem of her shirt and glide up her bare back, rough fingers grazing her smooth skin and leaving a trail of gooseflesh in their wake. She breaks the kiss with a gasp, arching her back and pressing her breasts into his chest. Her hands slip free of his hair and drop to clutch his shoulders, her fingernails digging into him as he pulls her closer and begins sucking gently at the pulse point below her jaw.

"Olberic," she moans, her voice thick with desire. "Please."

He nips at her throat, eliciting another gasp, then soothes the spot with tongue and lips. "Hmm?"

"Please," she breathes. "I need-"

A series of taps emanates from the locked door. "Lady Primrose? It's Ophilia. Are you awake?"

A stream of whispered obscenities pours from Olberic's lips, the vehemence shocking even Primrose for a moment. She laughs helplessly, clapping a hand over his mouth. "What is it, Sister?"

"Master Alfyn said you were looking for me earlier. I've brought you some clothing...is this a bad time?"

"I'll get rid of her," she whispers, brushing her lips against Olberic's ear.

He shakes his head, gently untangling himself from her arms. "Too soon," he mouths, nodding to her bandage-wrapped belly.

She frowns at him.

"Lady Primrose?" Ophilia calls from beyond the door. "Shall I return later?"

Primrose sighs, reluctantly pulling away from the knight and tugging her shirt back into place as she strides towards the door. She unlocks it and pulls it open sharply, enjoying the startled look on the blonde's face as she runs her wide blue eyes over the disheveled dancer. "No, now is fine. Olberic and I were just...discussing some plans."

Ophilia raises her eyebrows, pursing her lips but apparently deciding it was none of her business. "Seems like it was quite a spirited discussion. Are you sure that this much excitement is a good idea, considering?"

"A little excitement never hurt anyone, Sister. I will survive," the dancer replies casually. "Now then, let's see about some new clothing. I'm sure Olberic would like to get me out of this shirt at some point." She winks at him and he sighs, knuckling his forehead.

Ophilia giggles at her, too busy rummaging through her bags to catch the frustrated expression on the knight's face.


	7. Chapter 7

As Ophilia produces a seemingly endless selection of fabrics and completed clothing from her bags, Olberic takes the opportunity to excuse himself, citing a need to prepare for the day. Primrose watches him go, turning back when the door clicks shut to meet Ophilia's amused gaze. She raises one eyebrow at the blonde cleric who giggles helplessly in return. "Oh, come now, Lady, no need to be defensive. You are both lovely people, and I think it's sweet."

Primrose smiles slightly, shaking her head. "Clothes, Sister. I want to leave this room today."

Ophilia nods. "Clothes! So, I couldn't find anything as...well, nothing like your ah...dancing garb, not here, but I did find some really lovely pieces and with a little work, we could just-"

The dancer's mind wanders as the cleric natters on, holding up lengths of satin and airy linens in varying shades of red, violet, and black. Once, in a former life, the auburn-haired woman had adored shopping and trying on clothing. Her father had doted on her, employing a veritable army of seamstresses to dress her for every occasion, and she had loved every bit of the attention. As an adult, however, her life had taken a sharp turn, and the garments she wore were designed to draw a different sort of regard entirely. Primrose was confident in her looks and was very comfortable in her own skin, her clothes were always exquisitely tailored and left very little to the imagination. She simply took very little joy in the process anymore, and hadn't for some time. Ophilia, on the other hand, seemed to be relishing the prospect of dressing the dancer. Primrose decides to let her enjoy herself, contributing the occasional nod and smile while turning her nimble mind instead to thoughts of the crows and the next steps she would take in her mission to bring them down.

"...unless I have overstepped...? Lady? I'm sorry. I'll put it back. I just thought..."

At some point in her musing, her mask must have slipped. The cleric fidgets, staring at her. Primrose looks at the pale blue dress in Ophilia's hands and arches an eyebrow, extending a hand as she racks her brain, trying to recall what the blonde had been talking about. In her tavern dancer career, she'd found that people sometimes feel the need to fill the silence with chatter, and tend to reveal a lot more than what they might let slip under questioning. She employs that tactic now, turning the fabric in her hands with a non-committal "Hm."

"I mean, it's not terribly practical for a traveling outfit, but then neither was your ah-" She glances at the dancer nervously, but Primrose is examining the dress, "dancing...garb. I just thought the fabric flowed so beautifully, and that color reminded me of Sir Olberic's tunic, so-"

 _Aha, that's where she was going, then._  "And you feel I ought to be wearing his lordship's colors now?" She holds Ophilia's gaze steadily, her expression unreadable.

The cleric squares her shoulders, steeling herself under Primrose's stare. "That's not what I was implying. I thought he might like it, yes, but I also thought you would look fetching in it. If you think it gives the wrong impression, by all means, keep living in his shirt."

Primrose's eyes widen slightly and for the space of three heartbeats Ophilia tenses, waiting for the dancer to lash out at her. Abruptly, she bursts into helpless laughter, leaning forward to hug the confused cleric. "Oh Ophilia, I'm sorry. I can't help myself sometimes, I'm just not used to people being nice to me without an ulterior motive. The dress is lovely, Sister. Thank you for going to all this trouble."

Ophilia relaxes, smiling warmly at the dancer. "Thank you for letting me." She rises, stretching. "Now then, I need to be off. I need to finish running my errands before we go."

"Go? Where are we going?"

Ophilia frowns. "Did they not tell you? No, I rather suspect they didn't. Therion and H'aanit got a lead on her master, they need to go to Stillsnow. I'm going along with them since I know the area, and I think the others are coming along as well."

Primrose drums her fingers on the table. "I see."

"I'm sure they just didn't want to pester you with the details, that's all. You had such a terrible trauma..."

"Mhm. That I did."

"...but now that you're recovered, I'm sure this was just an oversight. We wouldn't dream of leaving you behind, dear, you know that."

Primrose flashes her teeth at Ophilia, the expression completely lacking any warmth. "Well then, off with you. Much to do I'm sure. I'm feeling dreadfully tired again, I think." She turns away, draping the blue dress over her arm, and disappears behind the privacy screen without another word. Ophilia frowns at the brusque dismissal and departs, shutting the door firmly behind her.

 

* * *

 

 

The day slips by far too quickly for Olberic's liking and afternoon is fading to evening before he arrives back at the inn, arms loaded with packages. No one else in their merry little band seemed to have the forethought or experience to plan for provisions in their travels so it always seemed to fall to the knight to make the preparations. He had seen one too many innocent stranded and hungry on the side of the road to simply let things fall to chance as they wove their way back and forth across Osterra despite assurances that 'it would all work out' and 'there would be plenty of taverns along the way'. He trudges to his room, shouldering the door open and sets the bags down with a grunt. Part of him despaired of his companions ever maturing enough to take this mission seriously and properly prepare themselves for the road ahead, but he also envied them their youthful innocence. Though he was only 35, he felt decades older than most of the group. In fairness, most of them had had soft, sheltered lives up until this point; Primrose and Therion being the notable exceptions. A smile tugs at the corner of his lips at just the thought of the dancer. _Brand's arm, man, get ahold of yourself._  He shakes his head ruefully, planting his fists on his hips and running his eyes over the pile of supplies.

"Someone's been a busy little bee today. Going somewhere?" a familiar, sultry voice purrs from the doorway.

Olberic spins around, grinning. "My L-Prim. I was just thinking about you."

"You really ought to lock your doors, Olberic. You never know what sort of trouble could come to call."

He steps towards her, ushering her in and shutting the door firmly behind her. "My dear, if trouble you are, then you are the very best kind." He draws her close in a tight hug.

She slips free of him after a moment, turning to examine the pile of provisions with a frown. "So, what is all this then? Trying to escape me so soon?"

Olberic chuckles. "Hardly. Therion and the others are leaving for Stillsnow in the morning, I was getting them set up for the trip. You know how well that lot enjoys preparing for a journey."

She arches an eyebrow at him. "And you?"

"And I...? I don't relish the task, but I am far better suited to such a thing than Alfyn. Not nearly as complicated as feeding an entire army, but certainly more than-"

"That is not what I meant, Olberic. Are you going with them? Were you going to mention this to me?" She stares at him intently.

Olberic cocks his head, puzzled at the shift in her demeanor. Was she angry at him? "Of course not. That is...I'm not going, not without you. In truth, they had planned to wait a few more days until you felt up to the journey, but I suggested that that would not be necessary. Alfyn in particular was hesitant to leave you, but I assured him that you would be well cared for in his absence..." He trails off, carefully studying her features. Judging by the frost in her eyes, he had made a tactical error somewhere.

"Did you ever think to include me in any of your plans? Or am I a piece of property? Some delicate porcelain toy that you men need to pass around and protect?"

"Primrose." He stares at her, stricken. "Surely you know me better than that."

"Do I?"

He sighs deeply, running a hand through his hair. "Please. Let me start over. Everything came about so quickly in the last day or so, I fear I have gotten ahead of myself and did not include you in the decision making. I take full blame for it, and I am truly sorry for insulting you in the process. Will you permit me a moment to explain my actions?"

She nods slightly, some of the tension easing from her shoulders.

"Thank you." He proffers his hand, which she accepts, and he guides her over to the couch where they sit, their knees not quite touching. "The short version is that Therion came about a great deal of information at about the same time as Cyrus did. It seems H'aanit's path is heading towards Stillsnow, and the young thief appears to be aimed at Northreach beyond that. What Cyrus told me, however...I'd hoped you could help me, if you were willing, so I let the others believe that you wished to linger here and recover while they went north. It was selfish, and I understand if you think less of me now."

She frowns, nibbling her lower lip thoughtfully. "Help you with what? What did Cyrus learn?"

"Erhardt is in the Sunlands, in a town called Wellspring. It tears at me to turn away from the group, but I cannot go north knowing that he is in the south anymore than I can ask the others to delay their quests for the sake of mine. I've not been this close to him in all the years since his betrayal. I feel like the lowest sort of wretch for even asking you to go back to that corner of the world, knowing what you endured there, but..." He closes his eyes, steeling himself. "I feel stronger with you beside me. I should have asked first. I should have done a lot of things differently. If you decline to accompany me, I understand completely, but I'd always imagined this day: the day I'd finally confront him and put an end to all of my questions, and I'd always pictured myself alone. Lately, however, I imagine you beside me. In all things. This is all uncharted territory for me, so if I've bungled it, I can only apologize and promise to do better in the future. If you'll let me."

She stares at him in silence for a moment before leaning towards him, cupping his face in her hands and kissing him gently. Her lips are hesitant at first, questioning, but then she parts her lips slightly and deepens the kiss. After a long, breathless moment she breaks away, leaning her forehead against his. "I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have thought the worst right away...my track record with men has not exactly been the greatest but that is hardly your fault. How would you feel about giving each other a break on this one and starting over?"

Olberic exhales slowly. "Splendid idea."

Primrose hugs him tightly, snuggling closer to rest her head on his shoulder. "Olberic?"

"Hm?"

"I heard a rumor that Erhardt is in Wellspring, I had a mind to go look around. Would you like to come along? I know a thing or two about the Sunlands that might be helpful."

The knight laughs, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "What a wonderful idea, I would be delighted to accompany you."

"Terrific. We might have a hard time finding provisions though, I hear someone bought out most of the market this morning."

He chuckles. "Oh, I think we'll manage. Lots of taverns en route to the desert, after all. We'll be fine."


	8. Chapter 8

They separated the next morning at the gates of Noblecourt. Therion and H'aanit were so anxious to depart that they practically pushed the others out of their rooms at sunrise. Tressa occupied herself with checking over the stacks of provisions until an admonishing glance from Olberic sent her blushing and scurrying off to hassle Cyrus about his ever-increasing stack of scrolls and books, while Ophilia and Alfyn had their heads together in close conversation. The cleric and apothecary glanced over at Olberic and Primrose several times during their discussion but abruptly changed the topic when either approached them. Primrose was amused, shrugging slightly at Olberic when he cast a curious glance her way. They would either get whatever bothered them off their chests or not, it was not her problem. Finally, everything was set and the group said their goodbyes, wishing each other luck and agreeing to meet up together in Bolderfall once Therion's job was completed. Olberic and Primrose made their way back to the inn to pack up what was left of their belongings and departed shortly thereafter, heading south towards Atlasdam.

After a largely uneventful day of travel, they arrive at the city gates. Once inside, they find an inn and order a room. Olberic had attempted to protest for most of the afternoon, insisting on allowing her some privacy, but Primrose had put her foot down firmly on the matter.  _'Safety in numbers, dear. It's best if we stay close. And think of the unnecessary expense if we were to get two rooms instead of just the one at every stop along the way! Besides, if we are to be traveling as Lord and Lady Berg, should we not act the part? We will draw more eyes if we are claiming to be a couple and sleeping separately, no?'_  Primrose smiled to herself, shaking her head as she played over the conversation in her head while the knight negotiated with the innkeeper. For all his objections, he truly did not seem all that put out at the idea of sharing her room. He was a deeply honorable man with a complex personal code, and she was greatly looking forward to untangling it.

"My Lady? This way." Olberic proffers his arm and Primrose rests her hand on it with a smile and a polite nod to the innkeeper, who knuckles his forehead in return as the pair turns away, heading upstairs. Their room is airy and clean with a large bed opposite a wide fireplace. Primrose spots a narrow copper tub in the corner and nods approvingly. She hangs her traveling cloak by the door and begins setting out their personal items and making the room more comfortable. "If you don't mind, I think I'll head down to the bathhouse," Olberic begins, rummaging through his bag for fresh clothing. "I'll arrange for dinner in the meantime, unless you want to look around town a bit."

"Oh, a bath sounds lovely," she replies.

"Indeed. The innkeeper was quite adamant that his humble bath house was unfit for such a fine lady as yourself and insisted upon sending hot water up for your personal use. He assured me that it would be here shortly."

She tilts her head. "Unfit for me but good enough for you?"

He grins at her. "Not quite the way he worded it, no. 'Lord Berg' is perfectly content with such amenities, but the fellow seemed quite taken with you...I cannot say that I blame him there. I suspect he would have dislodged other guests on the spot if you did not approve of this room."

"Men," she mutters.

"Just so."

"I suppose a private meal would not be a terrible thing. I've been to Atlasdam before, so I don't need to 'see the sights' right this second unless you haven't done enough walking today...?"

He laughs. "Fair enough, I'll see to it."

A sharp knock emanates from the door and Olberic lifts the peephole cover to peer through, then quickly unlatches the bolts and steps back to admit the serving girls bearing the hot water and towels. Satisfied that Primrose is in good hands, he exits with a small bow. Within moments, the bath is prepared and the dancer shoos the girls out with a small purse of coins and assurances that she is quite capable of seeing to her own comfort. She locks the door behind them and strips off her clothes, sinking into the jasmine scented water with a delighted sigh.

Some time later she emerges feeling more relaxed than she has in weeks. She dries herself off and crosses the room to stand in front of the mirror, examining herself critically. Her wound seems well healed; whatever compound Alfyn devised for her had worked like a charm. She runs a finger along the edge of it, frowning at the scar that would forever mar her flesh and serve as a constant reminder of Simeon's treachery.

Of her weakness.

How could she be so blind for so long? She had tried to justify her naivete as the trusting nature of the child she once was, but that child and her foolish innocence was gone long before Simeon had buried his knife in her belly. Some desperate, stupid part of her had wanted to believe there was a last shred of goodness left from her fabled childhood, but that hope lay in tatters now. Tears pricked her eyes briefly until she blinked them away with a scowl. No. No more. She was done weeping for her past, her steps carried her only forward now. That foolish little girl was gone, as was the starry eyed adolescent pining over her first love. This scarred, cynical woman was all that remained. She would have to be enough.

Sighing, she wraps herself in a frost-blue dressing gown, settling at the foot of the bed to run a comb through her long auburn hair. A gentle tap at the door interrupts her grooming and self-recrimination, and Primrose rises to open the door for the serving girls who make short work of setting out supper and emptying the tub. Olberic returns as the girls depart, his thick hair still damp, loosely laced linen shirt clinging to his broad shoulders. Primrose feels a familiar warmth uncoiling in her belly as she watches him, a flush rising in her cheeks. Part of her chides herself for looking at him this way and she unconsciously runs a fingertip over her mostly-healed wound as if to remind herself what happens when her heart guides her instead of her head. The rest of her burns with the memory of his arms around her, his lips on hers, the shock and regret in his eyes when he thought he had injured her, and the knowledge that this man is _nothing_ like that simpering poet she thought she knew or any of the dozens of men who had leered and hurt her before. She had known from the moment she met him that Olberic Eisenberg was an honorable, trustworthy man. Looking at him now, she resolved to push her usual cynicism aside and all her doubts and fears fell away once and for all.

As if sensing a change in the dancer, the tall knight turns back after latching the door and pauses, running his eyes over Primrose appreciatively. The thin, silky robe clung to her in all the right places and she knew it, leaning artfully against the table as if putting herself on display. "Hungry?" she murmurs.

Olberic swallows hard, his eyes locked on hers. His fingers twitch involuntarily at his sides but he doesn't answer.

Primrose straightens, pushing away from the table, and glides across the room coming to a stop right in front of the warrior. "Forgive me, my Lord. I couldn't quite hear you...are you hungry?" She gazes up at him through thick lashes, her lips slightly parted.

"Primrose..." he rumbles. His voice is so deep she can feel it through her toes. "You...are a vexing woman."

She laughs softly, slipping her arms around his waist. "Is that a no?"

To answer he bends his head, kissing her soundly. She leans into him, tightening her arms and pressing against him, relishing the feel of his muscular torso against her. He begins to pull away slightly and she chases after him with a low noise of protest, tightening her fists in his shirt and holding him close. Breaking the kiss he looks down at her, his grey eyes dark and searching. She reaches up to begin unlacing his shirt, her eyes never leaving his. Something in him seems to break when her fingertips graze the flesh just above his waist and he captures her wrists in his large, calloused hands, stopping her. She frowns, opening her mouth to protest but stops short when he releases her, his hands sliding up to push the dressing gown off of her shoulders, leaving her torso bare under his hungry gaze. He gently cups her breasts in his hands, lifting them and stroking the undersides gently. She inhales sharply, hooking her hands into his belt for support when he suddenly rubs his thumbs over her taut nipples in a slow, circular motion.

Her eyes close briefly, letting the sensations wash over her. Her pulse pounds in her ears, her whole world reduced to the dull ache between her legs and the delicious torture of his rough fingers teasing and exploring her. She shifts carefully, rubbing against his hard length and lets her robe fall all the way to the floor. That brief contact shakes her out of her languor and she quickly resumes her attack on his belt, unfastening the buckles with sure hands and tugging his trousers down over his hips. His swollen cock springs free and she wastes no time slipping both hands around it, tightening her fist around the base of his shaft with one hand and running her thumb over the head with the other, causing the knight to release her breasts with a shudder and brace himself against the wall.

"Prim..." he groans.

She raises up on her tiptoes, nipping at his lower lip, then gracefully lowers herself to her knees, staring deep into his eyes as she guides his trousers over each leg, tossing them to the side. Without replying, she kisses the head of his cock, her tongue flicking out to swirl over it briefly before she wraps her mouth around it, sliding him deep into her mouth and pulling gently. One hand remains at the base of his shaft, squeezing him as she expertly works him over with lips and tongue, occasionally grazing his swollen member with her teeth. His hands claw at the wall behind him until he finally buries them in her mass of red-gold hair, being careful not to push her head but seemingly desperate for something to hold onto. His knees buckle slightly and she responds by gradually increasing her tempo, eliciting a low growl from deep in his chest. Sensing he is close, she cups his balls with her free hand, flicking her eyes upward to hold his gaze when he glances down at her in surprise. That eye contact is all it takes to push him over the edge and he explodes with a groan, sending waves of fluid, sweet and slightly tangy, down the back of her throat. She fists him firmly, swallowing hard and caressing him gently with her tongue to coax out every drop until he shivers and pulls away, his impressive length diminished slightly but not entirely deflated. He gazes down at her, his eyes glazed, and offers his hands to pull her to her feet, wrapping her in a tight embrace and holding her close to him.

"That...was incredible," he whispers, his voice thick.

"That was just the beginning," she replies with a slow smile, turning towards the bed and tugging him after her.


	9. Chapter 9

For most of his adult life, Olberic Eisenberg, though fairly humble in nature as world reknowned champions go, prided himself on a few key character traits, not the least of which was his rigid self-control. He considered himself an honorable man who was generally able to keep his emotions in check with very rare exceptions. He had partaken in dalliances with the fairer sex in the past, of course, as one might expect from any hot blooded warrior in his prime, but most of his experience in that regard was limited to perfunctory, hurried encounters with tavern girls in his reckless youth back before his service to the palace in Hornburg. Erhardt had always been the one to have a woman waiting for him in every town; Olberic would just as soon take care of his needs on his own so he could get back to the training yard.

All that changed the moment Primrose Azelhart danced into his life. The longer they traveled together, the more often the warrior's mind would wander to visions of her bottomless amber eyes, her pale, slender throat, the gentle curve of her hips that would fit so perfectly in his hands if he ever got the nerve to touch her. When she was attacked on that fateful night and lay bleeding her life out in his arms, he swore to Brand and any of the Twelve that were listening that he would give anything for another day with her, even vowing to put his own quest for revenge on the line just to save her. Even after she invited him into her bed, kissed him (and every time she kissed him thereafter), he held himself back from her, not wanting to hurt her or worse, push her too far and have her withdraw from him. His self-control was tested daily but he persevered, determined to keep her at arm's length lest he fail her in some way as he had failed everyone else in his life before her.

Tonight, however, he could resist no longer. She called to him like a siren, the loveliest creature he had ever seen wrapped in a wispy robe of satin tinted the same color as his own surcoat. If the sight of her nestled in his own linen shirt was not torturous enough for him, the softly clinging folds of pale blue barely shrouding her lithe figure were his undoing. For the first time since entering the knighthood, Olberic let go of his stoic facade and threw himself into the moment, surrendering his will to their desires. Her skin was silk against his steel, impossibly soft and smooth beneath his rough hands. He was certain that she would shrink back from him when he groped at her breasts like the coarsest fieldhand but she had hissed in pleasure, arching her back and pressing harder against him. He was so distracted that it took him completely by surprise when she deftly removed his belt, freeing his desperately throbbing member from its prison, and proceeded to pleasure him with her mouth in a way that he had only heard about and frankly never quite believed.

His mind was still reeling from the experience, his knees as weak as a newborn colt's. It was all he could do to stammer out "That was incredible" as he gathered her to him in a tight embrace. The praise seemed to please her, though, as she gently disengaged from his arms and pulled him into bed. Their bed. For a brief moment, Olberic felt a jolt of panic. It wasn't that he was intimidated by her obvious experience in this field, he had meant it when he told her that her past had no bearing on their present. He simply despaired of disappointing her, his lack of knowledge in the bedroom daunted him.

He lay there quietly, his mind racing. She curls closer to him, her slender hands beginning a lazy exploration of his torso, weaving through the patch of hair at the center of his chest and idly teasing his nipples one at a time. Despite the exertions of a few moments ago, his cock was already responding, slowly coming to attention under her gentle touch, and this did not escape her notice.

"So, the Unbending Blade is not just a clever nickname, hm?" she murmurs, pressing a kiss to the side of his neck.

He blushes, shifting his hips in embarassment. "You have a powerful effect on me, Primrose. Always have."

"Always? Hmph. And I'm having to throw myself at you over and over? For shame, Olberic, making me work so hard." She stretches up, leaning over his chest and resting her chin on her folded hands, a playful smile on her lips. She examines his face for a moment and her smile falters. "What's wrong?"

"Hm? Nothing." He tucks an errant curl behind her ear, stroking her cheek with the back of his finger. Her eyes close slightly for a brief moment as she leans into his touch, but just as quickly they open again, pinning him down with her concerned gaze. "It's not...I..." He breathes a sigh. "It's complicated."

"Try me. I am terribly good at uncomplicating things."

He knits his eyebrows in a slight frown. "I want you."

"Mhm," she nods. "Easy enough. You may have me."

He chuckles. "No, it is not just...I am not sure--" he pauses, gazing at the ceiling as he searches for the words. "It's been a long time, for me. I've never been with a woman like you..."

She tilts her head but doesn't comment.

"What I mean is...I've had women, but none who were as...experienced," he continues in a rush. "What you did for me just now was incredible, just being with you like this is more than I could have hoped for...I do not want to disappoint you when I...we...ah...proceed. With things." He rakes his hand through his hair, looking anywhere but at her. "I'm ruining this, aren't I?"

"Olberic. Look at me."

He reluctantly meets her gaze, dreading finding regret or worse: amusement at his discomfort. Instead, she is nibbling thoughtfully on her lower lip, only warmth and affection in her amber eyes.

"I cannot think of a single way you could possibly disappoint me. Not one. If you wish to stop what we are doing and come back to it when you are more comfortable, I will wait as long as you need. Although judging by the looks of things, waiting is not something you really want." She grins at him and he chuckles, the evidence of his arousal pressing insistently at her leg despite the turmoil in his mind. "As to the rest...Yes, I know some things. Probably more than most. I would be happy to try as much or as little with you as you like." She rises to her knees, straddling his hips and pinning his hard length beneath her, pressed between them. Taking his hands in hers, she places them on her waist, slowly guiding them up her torso to cup her breasts, her hard nipples pressed into his palms. He shifts his hips beneath her and she bites down on her lip, grinding against him in a lazy circle. "Sometimes I like to be in control," she purrs, her sultry voice low. "Teasing is nice, pushing our limits just to see how much we can stand, who is going to break first..." She leans down, kissing him slowly, sucking his bottom lip into her mouth as she pulls away. She turns her neck, angling her face so that her lips brush his earlobe. "Other times, I might want you to throw me down and pound me right into the mattress."

He groans in response, his hands gripping her waist to push her down against him, his cock twitching between her legs.

She inhales sharply, biting into his shoulder and then soothing the spot with a kiss. "We have lots of choices, so many things to learn about each other...but for now, I think..." She lifts her hips, reaching between them to grab his aching cock in her fist. Shifting herself expertly she lines him up and presses back just enough so that his head slips inside her slick opening. Resisting the overwhelming urge to buck his hips and bury himself inside her takes every ounce of his control. Judging by the look on her face, he was not alone, but he was determined to hold out as long as he could and let her find her release. She lowers herself, adjusting to the feeling of his thick cock stretching her walls with a soft moan. "Mm," she sighs, her eyes fluttering closed. "Perfect, so perfect." After a moment she braces her hands on his chest and rocks her hips in a slow circle, grinding hard against him. His breath leaves him in a rush. He reaches for her, gripping her thighs with his hands and lifting his head off the pillow to watch. His eyes shift back and forth, unable to decide between watching his shaft disappearing inside her and marveling at the pleasure on her face as she rides him.

She takes one of his hands in hers, guiding his thumb between them to a small nub hidden in the soft curls between her legs. Following her motion, he rubs against her and she clenches her leg muscles with a sharp gasp. Encouraged, he begins stroking the small bundle of nerves causing her to writhe against his hand. She sits up suddenly, arching her back, and squeezes her breasts together, pinching her nipples. Her eyes are closed in concentration, her lips are parted, a flush is high in her cheeks, and she has never looked more beautiful. Her rocking motion has begun picking up speed until she is nearly bouncing on top of him, riding his cock hard and fast, a series of pants and whines escaping her lips as she teeters on the edge. He bites down hard on his lip, desperately trying to hold back his own release until she finds hers. He grips her waist with his free hand and snaps his hips upwards, pumping his cock deep inside her, hard and fast.

Suddenly she goes rigid and cries out his name, her pussy clamping down on him. He manages to thrust a few more times before giving way to his own orgasm, her spasming walls milking every drop out of him. A long moment passes and the world seems to stop spinning. At some point Olberic remembers to breathe and loosens his grip on Primrose's waist, his eyes widening at the marks his fingers have left on her faintly tanned skin. She chuckles at his expression, bringing his hands to her mouth and kissing each palm, her eyes half-lidded in contentment.

A swell of masculine pride rises in his chest at her pleased and dishevelled state. He tugs her toward him gently, kissing the tip of each breast in turn before drawing her down for a slow kiss as their bodies gradually relax, sated for the moment. She raises her hips slightly and lets his cock slide out of her with a small sigh, shifting her position so she can lay beside him and resting her head on his shoulder. "That," she murmurs, "was definitely worth the wait."

If he was able to find the words, he would have agreed with her. Instead, he made some sort of noise that he hoped sounded like assent and held her close, listening to her breathing as it slowed, and relishing the feel of her in his arms as he drifted off to sleep.


	10. Chapter 10

Primrose awakens first the next morning, somewhat surprised to see the normally early rising knight contentedly snoring away. She runs her eyes over his handsome face and broad, well-muscled chest and gives some serious thought to slipping back under the sheets to tease him awake with lips and tongue. After a moment she shakes her head, carefully easing out of their bed and dressing quickly so as not to disturb him. The road beckoned and they would have plenty of time to satisfy their urges later.

After a brief trip to the bath house to wash off the previous night's exertions, the dancer emerges refreshed and dressed for the day in the pale blue dress provided by Sister Ophilia. The innkeeper rushes over to bid her good morning, begging forgiveness for not anticipating her needs sooner. She pats his arm with a smile, assuring him that she is quite capable of seeing to herself. "There is something you can do for me, though, if you do not mind," she says, her voice taking on a honeyed tone.  


* * *

  
A series of knocks emanates from the door. "Your Lordship?"

Olberic sits up and swings his legs out of bed rubbing at his eyes distractedly. He glances around the room, noting a disturbing lack of Primrose. The knocking begins again as he grabs his clothes off the floor. "Just a moment!" he calls out. He fumbles to pull his trousers on, rising and striding across the room to open the door. The serving girl blinks up at him, a blush spreading across her cheeks. Clearly she was not expecting to come face to chest with the shirtless warrior. He mumbles an apology and steps back, admitting her to the room. She bobs a quick curtsy and briskly sets about whisking away their untouched supper and replacing it with a platter of fruit, cheese, and bread. A steaming pot of tea completes the table. After pouring a jug of scented water into the washbasin, the girl backs out of the room, craning her neck to get another peek as Olberic stretches his shoulders with a groan. He shuts the door firmly, shaking his head. After grabbing a washcloth and going through his morning ablutions, he could no longer ignore his stomach's nagging and sat down to eat, tearing through the meal with gusto.

Some time after his third cup of tea, Primrose returns to the room, arms laden with packages. Olberic leaps to his feet, moving to assist her. She glances over at the table and her forehead creases in a frown. "How was breakfast?"

The knight blinks at her, embarassment flushing his face. "I...ah, I'll run down and get another--"

She laughs, hugging him. "Teasing, lover. Just teasing. I sent that up for you. I didn't want to wake you, so I ate in the market while I was buying provisions for us. Are you ready to pack up? I think I have us all set here."

"You...really?"

"Mhm. Not all of us get to layabout all morning, dreaming the day away." She sets about opening parcels and arranging items into neat little stacks, repackaging everything tidily with an air of efficiency he had never seen her display. She senses his stare and turns around, eyebrows raised.

"I was not expecting you to do all this, honestly. These tasks usually fall to me." Realizing he was standing around while she worked, the knight quickly starts gathering their personal effects and stowing them neatly in their respective bags.

"I know. I felt like you worked _extra_  hard last night and earned yourself a little break."

She flashes a sly grin at him and he felt heat staining his cheeks again. Brand lend me strength, she could push his buttons like no other. She knew it, too. Vexing woman.

Together they make short work of packing and with a final goodbye for the innkeeper and promises to visit again, the couple departs the inn. Olberic begins heading for the southern road but Primrose stops him with a smile, indicating instead the merchant docks just outside the walls. "I made some arrangements to get us closer to the Sunlands," she explains. "There is a certain merchant captain awaiting Lord Berg and Lady Thorn and he happens to know a little used beach near the Riverland border that will put us much closer to our goal than the eastern route."

"A merchant captain?" Olberic chuckles, having a pretty good idea of who that might be. "And you managed this so quickly, just this morning? Impressive, Prim."

Primrose waves her hand dismissively. "Tressa helped. The captain is a friend of hers, she sent word ahead for me before we left Noblecourt. The innkeeper had some connections at the docks who helped me track him down before he left port. Terribly helpful soul, that one."

"Just so," Olberic nods. People seemed all too eager to do as Primrose asked, he was learning. "So then, Tressa knows what we intend."

She shakes her head, linking her arm with his as they walk. "No, not at all. I simply suggested to her that walking all the way down to Bolderfall through the Frost- and Woodlands would be an awful strain, given my weakened condition. She was very helpful in offering to broker a solution that would spare my poor feet a few hundred miles of wilderness, as well as tossing a little income to a potential business partner. It just so happens that this particular beach is also much closer to the Sunlands without all the hassle of a slog through the mountains south of Rippletide."

"Indeed. I am well acquainted with the area, the journey can be arduous."

She glances at him, considering. "Would you prefer to take the longer route, maybe pass through Cobbleston? You know the roads better than I do..."

"No, no. You were correct in your assessment, sailing is most assuredly the wiser choice for a variety of reasons. Probably for the best to mislead the lass as well, I am not sure that one is capable of keeping a secret. As to Cobbleston..." He pauses, considering his words. "I am certain the village stands. I left them in capable enough hands, and the issue we had with the brigands was an exceedingly rare occurance. My sudden appearance there would be a distraction and most certainly cause a serious delay, and I am anxious to reach Wellspring."

She pulls him to a halt, slipping her arms around his waist. "I did not intend to do all of this without your knowledge, you know. I'd truly thought to discuss this with you last night, but we were a smidge distracted."

Olberic bends his head, capturing her lips with his. "My dear," he says, pulling back to look at her, "Any time you wish to 'distract' me while you make arrangements to make our lives easier, you have my blessing."

She rises on her toes, kissing him again. "Well then. To the docks! I don't know about you, but I am quite looking forward to seeing our cabin." She laces her fingers with his and tugs him onward, their destination in sight.  


* * *

 

As they approach the tall, three masted ship, Olberic catches sight of a familiar figure poring over maps on the main deck. Primrose falls a few steps behind the tall warrior as they cover the last bit of ground towards the gangplank, a backward glance revealing that the dancer has opted to let her traveling cloak slip over her shoulders exposing the curve hugging dress beneath. While not quite as provocative as her dancing garb, the low-cut garment is clearly meant to draw a lustful eye: several decorative cutouts at the waist display her smooth, toned abdomen and thigh-high slashes to either side allow her long legs to flash into view as she strides (struts, really, if he's being honest) towards the ship. She catches his eye and throws him a conspiratorial wink and he relaxes his grip on his sword. _When did I reach for my sword?_  Shaking off his momentary flash of possessiveness, he turns his attention back to the task at hand. A pair of deckhands lean over the railing, calling back to their captain and pointing down at the approaching couple, their words lost to the wind. He looks up from his maps, stares at them for the briefest of moments, and then barks out a laugh. With just a few long strides he descends the gangplank and meets them at the bottom, leaning casually against a stack of crates.

The blond man sketches an elegant bow. "Well, well. If it isn't Lord _Berg_." He places slight emphasis on the name, knowing it for a falsehood. "Ah, and that would make you the Lady Thorn, no? A pleasure to meet you, m'Lady. Word of your beauty could not do you justice, your radiance outshines the sun."

Primrose inclines her head slightly, her eyes lowered and a gentle smile curling her lips. Olberic clenches his jaw, adjusting his swordbelt before extending a hand in greeting. "Well met, Captain Bastralle."

"Well met indeed," he replies smoothly, amusement sparkling in his pale blue eyes as he clasps arms with the taller warrior. "So! To business, then? I am not accustomed to taking on passengers, you know, but Mistress Colzione is dear to me. I find it difficult to to deny her anything. As a result, my accomodations likely leave a bit to be desired. I've gone ahead and cleared out my own cabin for your personal use, Lady Thorn. I pray that you find its poor comfort sufficient."

"That was terribly kind of you, Captain. You did not have to put yourself out," Primrose says.

"Nonsense, my Lady. I wouldn't dream of exposing such a lovely creature to the rigors of shipboard life. Lord Berg, I've set you up in my first mate's cabin. Not quite as spacious, naturally, but it beats sleeping on the deck."

"That won't be necessary," Olberic rumbles, pausing when Primrose lays a slender hand on his forearm.

"Actually, Captain, I would prefer to remain closer to Lord Berg," Her sultry voice was silk over steel; this was not being posed as a request. The warrior shifts his weight, tucking his thumbs behind his swordbelt and assuming a slightly more relaxed stance.

Bastralle flashes a charming smile. "You are quite safe aboard my ship, lovely Lady. I know we seafaring men have a terrible reputation among the rest of the world, but I assure you that none of my men will dare to lay a finger upon you lest they face my wroth." He pulls his flowing sapphire cloak back from his hip, displaying an elaborately engraved blue spear as if to emphasize his point.

Primrose quirks an eyebrow at the former pirate, amusement dancing in her amber eyes. "You misunderstand, Captain, though I do appreciate the gesture. I have no fear of unwelcome fingers when _my_  Lord is at my side, where he belongs." Neither of the men miss her emphasis.

"Ah," Bastralle replies, giving Olberic an appraising glance. Olberic hoped he was remembering the time they had sparred in the streets of Rippletide. It had not gone in the pirate's favor. The blond man leans back, running his eyes over Primrose. A hint of disappointment is evident in the set of his mouth. "I see. Well, if that is your preference, then so be it." He steps back, bowing with a flourish and motioning wide with one arm. "Come aboard, and be welcome."


	11. Chapter 11

By mid-morning, the stone walls of Atlasdam are a distant memory as the ship sails briskly through the deep blue waters of the inner sea. Primrose retires to the cabin while the crew bustles around the decks, opting to remove herself from sight so as not to be a distraction to the men. Olberic puts up a small objection but she merely chuckles, giving him an all too knowing glance. The knight was painfully aware of the stares that were directed at the dancer. He was perfectly willing to make an example out of as many of them as necessary, but he also knew that slashing his way through the crew was not a move that was going to endear him to Leon Bastralle. His possessive streak was a new development and it no doubt bore examining, but he chose instead to volunteer to assist the men, opting to throw himself into physical labor rather than focus on introspection.

The day passes quickly as Olberic throws himself into whatever tasks the mate sets for him. The banter and easy companionship of the sea reminds him greatly of the camaraderie of life in the barracks and he feels right at home amongst the deck hands. Bastralle seems surprised at first to see the warrior hard at work, then nods at him approvingly before continuing on to supervise his ship. The tension between the men had evaporated once they hit open water; out here the captain was all business and any ambitions he may have had regarding Primrose appear to have dissipated like a breeze. Part of him was relieved; he respected Bastralle as a warrior and a captain and did not wish to have any discontent between them, especially aboard the man's ship. Mostly, however, he had quite enjoyed the swell of pride and smug satisfaction when the dancer had shut the former pirate down, claiming Olberic as hers. It was, perhaps, not the most noble character trait that Primrose had drawn out of him recently, but he found he could live with it.

Dinner was a quiet affair. The deckhands ate in the galley while the couple enjoyed a private meal with Bastralle. The captain seemed to think it wise to maintain their aliases so Primrose followed his lead, keeping the conversation focused around light topics. Her ease in social situations always impressed Olberic; he was at his best with a sword in his hand, but she seemed to navigate small talk just as gracefully as she maneuvered on the battlefield. The evening slipped by pleasantly and Bastralle excused himself with a slight bow sometime after the second glass of wine, citing a need to update his logbook before he retired for the night.

As the door clicks shut, Primrose rises, draining her glass. "That was fun. Leon is a fascinating man, I'd love to visit him again when this is all over and we can relax our guard a bit."

"Indeed. I am sure he would be amenable to that, he certainly took a shine to you. Not that I can blame him." Olberic takes her hand and then draws her close to him with a slow grin. She slips her arms around his waist, resting her head against his broad chest and sighing happily. "Care for a stroll above decks? You've been inside all day, you must be tired of looking at these walls."

"It was not so bad, really. I took advantage of my idle time to stretch a bit and practice a new routine I have wanted to work on. I had a sneaking suspicion that you would be more comfortable if I did that sort of thing behind closed doors."

He breathes a sigh, leaning back to look at her face. She studies his eyes, her expression carefully neutral. "You are very difficult to read, you know."

"Occupational hazard. I very rarely want a man to really know what I am thinking," she replies smoothly.

"I trust you, and I know that you are quite capable of taking care of yourself," he continues.

"This is also true."

He shifts his weight. "I cannot tell if you are annoyed with me or not."

Her lips twitch in a small smile and some of the tension eases out of his shoulders. "I am not annoyed, no. You are protective by nature. I would be a fool to expect anything less from you, especially since it's one of the things that drew me to you in the first place. I obviously enjoy the attention that I get from flaunting myself the way I do, but watching you puff up that big chest of yours and flex around Leon was very..." she trails off, nibbling her lip and eyeing him in a way that made his groin twitch to wakefulness. "Well, we can explore my thoughts on that a little later." She slips out of his arms, tugging him towards the cabin door. "Come on then, I want some fresh air before you take me to bed."

A flush creeps up his neck at that thought and he follows her outside, trying not to stare at her gently swaying hips and failing miserably. She glances back over her shoulder and he snaps his eyes upward a moment too late, shrugging helplessly in reply to her soft peal of delighted laughter. Suddenly he deeply regrets his suggestion that they leave the privacy of their cabin.

Primrose glides over to rest her hands on the railing, peering over the side as the water rushes past them, then tilts her head back to gaze at the stars in the cloudless sky above. The moon is low and bright, bathing her skin in a faint silvery glow as the breeze teases a few loose strands out of her loosely braided hair. She closes her eyes and begins to move, quietly humming a tune he doesn't recognize, her lithe body moving to a rhythym all her own.

Olberic stands in the shadows, breath caught in his throat, afraid to move and break the spell woven by this goddess of the night before him. He's seen her dance before; several times in fact. Her movements were always precise and measured, her transitions smooth. Every man and woman who watched her command the stage felt as though she danced just for that person alone. Tonight, as he watches her undulate hypnotically with only his eyes upon her, he wondered if perhaps for the first time it was true. He has no idea what he has done in his life to deserve the trust and affection of this bewitching creature, but he swears by all the Twelve that he will never make her regret choosing him.

Abruptly she stops, her wrists crossed and arms raised over her head, front leg bent slightly at the knee and pointed straight at him. Her eyes open slowly and she locks gazes with the knight, her lips parting slightly as she attempts to control her ragged breathing. She lowers her arms, extending one towards Olberic, crooking a finger to beckon him closer. He doesn't hesitate, striding forward and sweeping the dancer into his arms and crushing her to his chest, claiming her lips hungrily. After a long, breathless moment they separate. She smiles against his lips, nipping him gently and he chuckles, reluctantly lowering her to the ground.

"So," she murmurs, running her hands over his biceps. "Overall, can you think of anything I could improve? I'm pretty happy with the--" Primrose lets out an indignant squeak as the knight scoops her up and tosses her over his shoulder, striding briskly towards their cabin without a word.


	12. Chapter 12

They lurch into their cabin, Primrose giggling helplessly as Olberic kicks the door closed behind them and effortlessly lowers her to her feet in front of the bed. She opens her mouth but he closes the space between them before she has a chance to formulate any sort of comment, his urgent kisses taking her breath away. She gasps slightly when he releases her, tilting his head and leaning her back slightly to gain access to her throat. Her pulse pounds in her ears and she is left clinging to him, not quite trusting her knees to keep her upright under his amorous assault. She closes her eyes, briefly losing herself in the moment, and then pushes against him gently until he loosens his grip and pulls back to allow her to stand up straight. Concern flickers across his face until she begins disrobing, her lips quirking into a slow smile as his gaze darkens again, his stormy grey eyes roving over her body. She steps out of her dress, nudging it gently to one side with her foot, and begins tugging his shirt loose. He yanks it over his head, tossing the garment over his shoulder carelessly and steps forward again, catching hold of her and easing her backwards onto the bed, slipping one leg between her knees and nudging gently to part her thighs.

She sits up and reaches for his belt but he takes hold of her wrists, shaking his head. "You're wearing far too many clothes..." she begins, her voice trailing off as he leans over her, laying her back down and pulling her arms to stretch behind her head, tilting her breasts towards his eager mouth. She sighs happily as he begins a slow assault on her nipples, teasing each in turn, suckling at her and then exhaling gently, his breath raising goose flesh on her skin. He straightens slightly and gazes down at her for a moment and then changes his grip, holding her wrists in place with one hand while the other glides down her arm. He slowly traces her jawline and throat and then hovers over one breast, her nipple brushing his palm with every ragged breath she takes. She attempts to shift her hips, the dull ache between her legs desperately seeking some friction, but he remains frustratingly out of reach. "Olberic..." she pleads, arching slightly as his calloused hand kneads and teases her.

"If I let go of your hands, will you let me..." he begins, staring at her intently. "I'd like to try something."

She raises an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued. "Anything," she agrees.

His lust-darkened eyes study hers for a moment and he takes a breath to steady himself before releasing her wrists. She relaxes her arms obediently and he runs both hands over her body now, his expression unreadable. Gentle fingers glide down her torso , ghosting over her scar and beyond, over her hips, trailing along the sides of her legs. His hands continue lower still to grip her calves, slowly bending and spreading her legs wider as he sinks to the floor, pressing a series of soft kisses along her inner thigh as he slides his arms under her, hooking her knees over his broad shoulders. He slips a finger between her slick folds and strokes upward slowly, a smug smile tugging at his lips when she bites at her lip to cut off a moan. He slides his finger lower to circle her opening, dipping inside briefly and then back out again, coming ever closer to her aching bundle of nerves but being careful not to touch it directly.

She strains against his arms, the throbbing between her legs dominating her thoughts. Unable to move her hips, desperate for more, she props herself up on her elbows and meets his speculative gaze. "Please," she pants.

He slides one finger inside her, exploring her gently as she shivers under his rapt attention. He appears more sure of himself now, his movements more confident.

"Olberic...please. Oh!" she gasps as he suddenly lowers his head, running the flat of his tongue in a long upward sweep and circling her swollen nub before sucking it gently between his lips. Waves of pleasure roll over her and her head drops back down, soft moans escaping her as he works her over with his sinful mouth. Her release comes much faster than she hoped and she cries out sharply, her thighs tightening around his head, causing him to relax his grip and pull back to come up for air. She collapses bonelessly, panting, and he rocks back on his heels to stand up, sliding her legs down over his arms and resting her feet at the edge of the bed. She lifts her head at the dull sound of his belt and trousers hitting the floor and observes him appreciatively through half-lidded eyes, a slow smile spreading across her lips at the sight of his manhood straining towards her.

"Are you okay?" he murmurs.

She nods quickly and scoots backwards, making room for him to join her. He grins down at her, slipping his hands under her knees and lifting her legs around his waist. She reaches between them, grabbing hold of his cock to line him up, and with a slight shift his head slips inside her. After a moment she tightens her grip around his hips, pulling him closer against her core and he clenches his jaw.

"I'm not sure how long I can hold out," he mutters, his voice strained.

"Then don't try," she purrs, shifting restlessly beneath him.

He pulls out gradually, inch by agonizing inch, and slams back into her, burying himself to the hilt. She cries out sharply, digging her nails into his forearms. He glances down at her, eyes searching her face, but seeing only pleasure there he repeats the motion. And again. He stretches her arms over her head once more, arching her back to take full advantage of the sight of her breasts bouncing as he increases the pace of his thrusts. She bites her lip to stifle her cries, her hands clenching and scrabbling against the sheets as she desperately tries to grab hold of something, anything, but his grip is like steel and he pins her in place. Suddenly he lets go, kneeling between her legs and yanking her hips towards his. He pulls her ankles up and over his shoulders, the new angle allowing him to hit a sensitive spot deep within her. "Oh, gods," she moans, clapping her hand over her mouth in a vain attempt to muffle the sounds he was drawing out of her.

He pulls her hand away, pinning it down again and shaking his head. "Let him hear you," he rumbles. "I want him to." He withdraws and thrusts, again and again, picking up speed, and she feels the familiar pressure building, the throbbing inside her reaching a crescendo.

"Yes!" she gasps. One final burst pushes her right over the edge and he tumbles helplessly after her, her spasming walls drawing out his explosive release. Letting go of her wrists, he leans on his forearms to catch his breath. She slowly unwraps her legs from around him and lets them slide to the mattress, twitching slightly when he pulls out of her with a regretful sigh. He kisses her gently and rolls onto the bed beside her, gathering her into his arms. She reaches under the pillows and produces a small cloth, pressing it between her legs.

"Well. Seafaring life certainly agrees with you," she murmurs into his chest. "And to think I believed you when you told me how inexperienced you were."

He rakes a hand through his hair, embarrassed. "It's...something I'd heard talk about over the years, but never had the chance to try. I should have asked first, I'm sorry. I don't know what provoked me to act in such a manner..."

She scoffs. "Do I seem like I'm unhappy? Don't you dare apologize for any part of that. Gods above, you are a pretty puzzle. I was not anticipating that at all...not that I am complaining, mind you."

"I lost control. I could have hurt you," he begins, but she cuts him off with a swat to the arm.

"I am not made of glass, I will not shatter. Besides, I could stop you if I wanted to."

He sighs and she shifts slightly in his arms. "Prim, I know--" he tenses, feeling something very cold and very sharp and very much aimed at a sensitive area. "Primrose?"

"Like I said, I could have stopped you. If I wanted to." The discomfort eases as she produces a small dagger, tilting it in front of his face. Her family's words flash in the candlelight: Faith shall be my shield.

He shakes his head ruefully. "Do you always bring a dagger to the bedroom?"

She frowns. "I always have it with me. Old habits. It's been a long time since I could truly trust someone."

He presses a kiss to the top of her head. "I hope I can earn it from you one day."

"You have. The twenty-odd men aboard this ship, however, have not," she replies smoothly. "I could get used to you taking control like that...and I did not know you had an exhibitionist streak. You are full of surprises tonight. Should I dance for you more often? Or was it our dear Captain who inspired you?"

He flushes under her amused gaze, shifting uncomfortably. "I..."

She leans over him, kissing him slowly. "You don't need to answer. I'm grateful that you're comfortable enough with me to be so...expressive." She stretches languidly, resting her head on his shoulder.

He chuckles softly, pulling the sheets over them both. The soft creaking of the ship as it glides through the water lulls them to sleep.  
   
  


* * *

 

The movement of the ship felt different the next morning, the telltale rocking of a ship at anchor. Primrose groans, mumbling something into the pillows about tea and pulling the covers back over herself. Olberic, always a firm believer that discretion is the better part of valor, opts to give her some more time. He dresses quickly and makes for the galley to collect a breakfast ration from the cook, then emerges onto the deck to squint into a brilliant morning, a non-descript shoreline spread out before him.

"Good morning, Lord Berg!" Bastralle strolls towards him, glancing behind the knight as he approaches. "I would ask how you slept, but I suspect we already know the answer to that. Bifelgan's balls, man, I am not sure if I'm more depressed or jealous. Perhaps a bit of both."

Olberic turns to face the grinning captain, squaring his shoulders and meeting the blond man's gaze directly. "Just so. The Lady and I were quite comfortable, I thank you for your hospitality."

Leon nods politely and the two men turn to gaze over to the tree-lined shore in front of them. "Are you sure about this? A long walk through the desert at this time of year?"

"You say that like there is a better season to cross it."

The blond man blows a sigh. "Not really, no. Look, I'm not sure what it is exactly that you two are after but between the heat and the lizardmen and gods know what else is crawling around out there lately, you're marching her right into a lot of danger. I know your reputation and have experienced being on the wrong end of that blade myself, as you no doubt recall, but still. Have a care with her."

Olberic claps a hand on the captain's shoulder. "I appreciate your concern, Captain Bastralle, but the Lady is taking the lead here. She knows this region far better than either of us do, I'll be fortunate to keep up with her."

Leon gives the knight an appraising look and shrugs. "Very well. I had to try! We'll be disembarking shortly, I'd like to be out of here before any of the locals get curious. How long do you think you'll need?"

"Not long at all," Primrose replies as she saunters up to join the men. She sidles up to Olberic who slips an arm around her waist and casually sips his tea. "We're packed and ready. I went ahead and replaced your bedding as well, Captain. Thank you again for the use of your cabin, last night was just what I needed." She flashes a sultry smile at the former pirate, leaning back against Olberic's broad chest to emphasize her point.

Leon bows slightly, conceding defeat. "Happy to be of service, m'Lady. Should you ever find yourself in need of my help in the future, you have only to ask. Now then, I have a ship to run. Best of luck in your endeavors, both of you. Gods willing, we will meet again."

The men clasp forearms respectfully and Bastralle turns on his heels, motioning to one of his men to bring the pair to shore. Less than an hour later they find themselves arm in arm on a secluded beach watching the rowboat make haste to rejoin the ship.

"Did you mean what you said earlier?"

Olberic cocks his head at her. "I always mean what I say. To which statement are you referring?"

Primrose gazes up at him thoughtfully. "The bit about being fortunate to keep up with me."

He entwines their fingers with a smile, wondering how much of the conversation she had heard and deciding not to ask. "Every word. Now then. Which way?"

"There will be a game trail through those trees there, and then we should find the road to Sunshade just beyond that. Crossing to Wellspring will be much easier at night, I think, despite the additional creatures wandering the roads."

Olberic nods approvingly. "Just so. Lead on, my Lady."

She shoves at him halfheartedly and they join hands, walking into the trees side by side.


	13. Chapter 13

Sunshade was exactly as she had left it. Some small part of her had held out hope that Helgenish's death would have changed something for the better, but from this distance, observing the city from a small rise overlooking the gates, everything remained the same: sullen-eyed dancers being groped and catcalled by leering men, ragged street children, and swaggering guards willfully ignoring all but the absolute worst of the violence spawned by the marriage of drunken debauchery and misery.

It was hell, and yet in a way it was home, too.

Noblecourt should have been a homecoming for her, but everything she once loved about the city was cold and dead. Even her memories were tainted; she could not even imagine walking through her family's gardens now, her mother's roses would only remind her of the hours she had spent watching Simeon prepare the ground and tend to the blooms. Her childhood home would be even worse with the ghosts of her father and the men who had betrayed him lingering in every room. The only pleasant thoughts related to that place now were entirely due to the man casting sidelong glances at her, a mildly concerned look in his deep grey eyes.

"We don't have to do this, you know. There are numerous caves nearby that would provide suitable shelter for the day, no need to enter the city proper."

"I am not afraid," she replies.

He frowns. "Never said you were, Prim," he continues patiently. "There's just no real _need_  to stop here. We've enough supplies to get us back and forth to Marsalim twice, Wellspring isn't that far from here at all. We could be well on our way in just a few hours if we skip this town for now. We can always have a look around on our way back."

She glances at him appraisingly. _On our way back._  For all his grim, stoic demeanor, the man had an optimistic streak a mile wide. Primrose dove into everything she did with one goal in mind: avenging her father. She never concerned herself with planning for the future, trusting that fate would guide her steps to the next clue, the next move, the next crow who needed to die. Her fingers rest lightly atop the scar adorning her previously pristine abdomen and she wonders (not for the first time) how much farther she's going to get before her way of doing things gets her into trouble.

Truth be told, she'd spent a fair amount of the last few years not particularly caring if she _had_  an afterwards. Olberic, on the other hand, clearly intended for there to be life beyond revenge. Perhaps she ought to consider that as well.

She sighs softly and takes a long pull from her canteen, passing it to the knight when she finishes. "You're right," she admits.

He arches an eyebrow at her but doesn't respond.

"The tunnels near the cliff wall should be quiet." Quieter than the last time she had been there, anyway. _Yusufa's final gasps for breath, Helgenish's dying screams, the rustling of ravens' wings as the scavengers gathered to feast on the bounty she left for them._ "From there, it is more or less a straight shot to the road heading for Wellspring. We could be there by morning if you like."

He reaches towards her to tuck a stray curl behind her ear, his forehead creased in a thoughtful frown as he studies her face. Despite her bleak mood, the brief brush of his fingertips is enough to make her stomach flutter but she meets his gaze squarely, keeping her expression carefully neutral. Finally he nods, shrugging his shoulderbag into place and adjusting his shield into a more comfortable position on his back. "After you," he says, motioning with one hand. She flashes a brief smile at him before turning away from the city and leading him into the desert.

At this time of day they find themselves unbothered by all but the most vicious of the local monsters, but even these are dispatched quickly by sword and dark magic. Olberic approaches each battle with the same intense focus regardless of the apparent strength of the enemy they face. His decades of training were evident in every move he made. Nothing was ever left to chance: no quarter was going to be given, every perfectly executed swing of his greatsword was methodical and aimed to kill. The dancer found herself holding back a bit, using her magic to support him rather than decimate their enemies. He didn't need the help, really, though he did not attempt to keep her from the fray. She simply enjoyed watching him work.

"I seem to recall this journey being a touch more dangerous the last time I made it," she remarks, watching the knight casually wipe his blade clean on the tattered remnants of a lizardman's cloak.

"And yet you made it all the way to Cobbleston completely unscathed. Not a hair out of place, if memory serves." He grins at her, rising to his feet with a groan. "The creatures may not pose a challenge, but this heat is beginning to wear on me. How much farther have we to go?"

"Just beyond those rocks," she replies, indicating the spot with a toss of her head. "The cliffs offer a bit of shade, but the tunnel will be cooler still."

She moves on, easily keeping pace with the much taller man despite his longer strides. Within moments they arrive and after a brief search yields no evidence of recent occupants, Primrose briskly begins setting up their bedrolls and creates a cozy retreat within the darkened confines of the cave mouth. Travel rations and a flagon of honey mead provide a light repast, after which Olberic suggests that she rest while he takes on the first watch.

The afternoon has trudged on towards evening when she sits up, stretching. "You let me sleep way too long," she mutters. "You need to rest too, you know. We have no idea what we're walking into tomorrow."

He chuckles but doesn't bother to deny it.

She crosses over to him, peering outside at the purple-tinged sky. "Say what you will about the harshness of this land, but the sunsets are spectacular."

"Breathtaking," he agrees, looking directly at her.

She smiles up at him, the warmth of his gaze chasing off the growing chill of the night air. His hands slip around her waist and he pulls her closer, holding her against him. She leans her head against his shoulder, listening to his heartbeat and staring out at the stark landscape in front of them.

They stand like this for a time, watching night drape its blanket across the world. When he finally speaks, she feels it through his chest more than she hears it. "You don't have to tell me what happened to you, but if talking about it would help you get past it, I am here and I will listen without judgement."

Primrose stiffens in his arms, craning her neck but the growing shadows conceal his features. "What?" Olberic relaxes his hold on her and she twists around, leaning back to look at his face. "What are you talking about?"

He strokes her cheek with the back of his hand, sighing quietly. "Whatever is troubling you. You've not been yourself since we got within sight of the desert. I have my suspicions based on some of the things you've said, but I am hesitant to let my imagination run wild. I'm aware of how things were for you here, to a point, but clearly something deeper went on that is still affecting you." He pauses, searching her eyes. "If it would help, if you would like to tell me, I am here. I will not pry, though. Your story is your own, I merely wish to offer my shoulders if I can help lessen your burden."

"And what lovely, broad shoulders they are," she murmurs, shaking off her initial surprise, and he chuckles. "Well they are."

"I'll take your word for it," he replies dryly.

She rests her head on his chest and closes her eyes as he gently strokes her back, the calming touch and steady thud of his heart against her ear soothing her jangling nerves. A few minutes pass, the silence stretching between them, until finally Olberic shifts his weight and lets go of her, moving further back into the cave and crouching down to build a fire. As the kindling ignites and the flames spring to life, she begins to speak.

"I've told you about Helgenish, what he did," she begins. "How he...and others...used me. How I let them use me, so I could stay here and wait for one of the crows to come through."

Olberic clenches his jaw and nods, not trusting himself to respond with words.

"What was done to my body means nothing to me," she shrugs. "None of it mattered. The leers, the taunts, the groping...the rest. I would grit my teeth and tolerate it all again and again and count it as worthwhile since I knew one day it would lead me to the crows. Rufus and Albus. And Simeon. That bastard." She takes a few steps towards the mouth of the cavern, gazing out across the sands.

He folds his arms in front of him, leaning back against the wall.

"This tunnel, this cave...this is how I escaped Sunshade. Right over there, just at the foot of those cliffs?" She points into the darkness. "That is where Helgenish stood over me for the last time. Where he slit Yusufa's throat to teach me a lesson. Where he dumped her body and left her to rot in the sun, all for the crime of helping me. Being a friend to me. She was a sweet girl, another dancer. The only one in this miserable town who was ever nice to me without wanting anything in return." She trails off, staring into the night.

After a moment he uncrosses his arms, tucking his thumbs behind his belt. "So you killed him." It was a statement, not a question.

"I did," she replies, her voice flat.

He nods approvingly.

"He was down, and I took the map from him. The one that led me to the first crow, the left wing. He lunged for me one last time and I gutted him like a fish. He bled out at my feet. I felt...nothing. No remorse, certainly. He was a monster, less than a beast. Cruel, foul. He deserved what I gave him and more for what he did to me, to the other girls." She turns slowly, meeting his eyes. "But I didn't feel any _better_ either."

He frowns slightly but doesn't reply.

"After I killed Rufus, it was the same. With Albus, too. Nothing changed, there was no relief from this emptiness inside me. Olberic, what happens when I catch up to Simeon? When I put my knife into that black knot he calls a heart, what then? He will be dead, and my father will still be dead, and then what?" Tears shine in her eyes briefly and she angrily blinks them away. "When we came back here today and I looked at this city for the first time since I killed that pig, Helgenish, it looked exactly the same. Nothing changes, not really. I'm starting to wonder what I have left when revenge is served. Noblecourt is lost to me, even Sunshade feels more of a home, miserable though it is. I just feel..."

"The way I feel?" he asks, his voice soft.

Suddenly she stops short, her eyes going wide. Horrified. "Oh, gods. Forgive me, Olberic. Please. I'm ranting and hysterical, and you've been carrying this weight all alone for longer than I have. How could I not see it before?" She buries her face in her hands, sinking to the floor.

"Primrose."

She stares at her fingers, her face pale in the firelight. "I'm sorry."

He sighs, taking a seat beside her. "There is no reason to be. Truth be told, it is a relief that someone else understands. I would not wish this grief on anyone but I suspect that this shared loss is what drew us together in the first place." He reaches for her, tilting her chin up to get her to meet his eyes. "That, and my lovely broad shoulders of course."

She laughs in spite of herself. "Of course. Let's not forget those."

He holds his arms open and she slides into his lap, curling against his chest. "Thank you," he whispers into her hair. "For opening up to me, for trusting me with this. For trusting me at all. I cannot imagine how difficult this life that you carved out for yourself must have been for you, despite your assurances to the contrary. The thought of what they did to you enrages me both as a man of honor and as the man who is fortunate enough to be invited to your bed. I hate that you had to suffer the way you did, and if I can ease that in any way in the days to come, I pray that you will let me try."

"You do. You are the only one who has made me feel any sort of peace or joy since...since my father was taken from me. And I hope that you let me do the same." She nuzzles his neck, planting a gentle kiss under his ear. "Speaking of beds, though..." She pulls him in for a long, deep kiss, eventually releasing him with a slow smile and standing up gracefully. "Get some sleep. I've got the watch."

Olberic adjusts himself with a grunt, watching her lithe form saunter out of his reach and take up a position near the entrance of the cave. Kicking off his boots, he settles himself in his bedroll and closes his eyes. Tomorrow, Brand willing, he would be face to face with Erhardt for the last time.


	14. Chapter 14

"Tell me about him," Primrose says, casting a sidelong glance at Olberic as they walk. The dawn has just barely broken, turning the sky a thousand shades of pink and pale golden, but even in the dim light of early morning she could see the slight shift in his expression. "I'd heard of both of you, you know, long before I met you: the fabled Twin Blades of Hornburg. My father used to tell me of your deeds when I was a girl. Even far in the north your names were spoken reverently."

He exhales loudly, raising his hands in mock exasperation. "Bedtime stories, Prim? Really? Gods above. Have you seen my cane laying around? I've grown so forgetful in my advanced years, I seem to have misplaced it."

She shoves at him lightly, her eyes crinkled with amusement. "Don't make fun, it's true! I must admit I had you on a bit of a pedestal back then. You and Erhardt were the object of many a girl's dreams...though I'm quite sure you know that." She steps back, running her eyes up and down his large frame with a small smile quirking the corner of her lips. "The sketches did not do you justice, I have to say."

"I'll take your word for it," he replies, smiling. "Women used to chase after Erhardt relentlessly. Not that they had to chase too hard, mind you, he was always quite happy to be caught."

"Shocking. Young, handsome, famous, and a philanderer? I am shaken to my core, truly." Primrose grins, fluttering her eyelashes at him. "And you?"

Olberic shrugs, his eyes scanning the empty road ahead of them. "I had my occasional...encounters. They never meant anything, though. I was more concerned with training. Until I met Alfyn, Erhardt was the only man I ever knew who could drink me under the table, but his true talent was the sword. He was a force of nature with a sword in his hand. He and I were very close in skill and it galled me to lose, even to him. Especially to him."

She smiles up at him. "Well, I am terribly grateful that none of your 'encounters' were enough to distract you from your duty. Their loss is most certainly my gain." She slips her arm through his, squeezing his bicep affectionately.

The knight laughs and presses a kiss to her forehead. "I am glad that you think so, old and decrepit as I am."

She shoves at him again and they walk in silence for a time, deep in thought. The silhouette of several buildings surrounding a faint shimmer appears in the distance: Wellspring was slowly coming into view. "What is the plan?"

He frowns, shading his eyes and peering off to the south. The road had been remarkably clear thus far, but their luck would not hold out forever. "I don't know. I honestly don't know what to expect. The faster we find him and get this done, the better."

She nods. "I've not been down this way in a few years. Helgenish usually kept us close." She still could not say his name without disgust bleeding into her voice. She doubted she ever would. "Occasionally, we would be loaned out for events. There is a sizeable black market near the oasis here. Lots of money to be had. I'm sure Therion would deny all knowledge of it."

Olberic chuckles but doesn't comment.

She gazes at him thoughtfully for a moment before continuing, "That is an idea. I could do some asking, see what I can stir up."

"No," he says. His voice is deadly calm.

"Olberic, it might be your only chance to take him unaware."

"No. I will not send you in there alone." He frowns, stopping in his tracks and turning to face her.

"Listen to me, please. Let me help you in this. He is going to see you coming from a mile away, how could he not? You cannot go marching around, shaking down every resident looking for answers, as much as I would enjoy watching you do it." She slips her arms around his waist, tilting her head back to search his eyes. "He knows you. He doesn't know me."

"What do you suggest?" he asks, shifting his weight.

"You get out of sight, I go to the tavern. They have a stage, they have alcohol. If Erhardt is not already there, I can suss out someone who knows where to find him." He tenses in her arms and she presses closer to him, forcing him to look down and meet her gaze. "Let me help you in this. You don't need to do this by yourself, you're not alone."

"I will not dangle you like bait while I skulk in the shadows," he growls.

"But I dangle so prettily," she replies, a well-practiced pout on her rosebud lips.

"This is not a game, Primrose. I've already watched him murder my king and my countrymen. If he lays a hand on you..." He clenches his jaw, staring past her. "I won't lose you, too. No. We do this my way, even if it means cutting my way through every man standing between us."

She raises a hand to caress the faint scar on his temple and he glances down at her, his expression softening slightly at her gentle touch. "I'm not going anywhere, lover. It will take a lot more than Erhardt to take me from your side."

He tucks a stray curl behind her ear and nods, making his decision. "Together, then. But we do things my way."

She raises herself on her toes, brushing his lips with a soft kiss. "Yes, sir."   
   
  


* * *

 

All morning they heard the same story a dozen different ways.

"Lord Erhardt? He's a hero! Stood between us and a score of them lizard men, town would have burned without him!"

"Oh aye, I know him. Everyone does. Wellspring owes him a debt we can never repay."

"Mm, sure, we all know Lord Erhardt. He doesn't come into town much, I'm sorry to say. We'd love to see more of him. I could tell you anything you'd like, perhaps over a drink?" The scantily clad woman leans in close, her cloying perfume stinging his nose. Olberic pulls away from her, wracking his brain for a polite refusal when Primrose slides between them, a dangerous glint in her amber eyes.

"Move along, he's not buying what you're selling," she says bluntly.

The other woman hesitates, opening her mouth to argue until Olberic slips his hand around Primrose's midriff, pulling her close to him possessively.

"Thank you for the assistance, miss. You've been most helpful," the knight nods dismissively, turning his full attention to Primrose.

The local woman smiles at the warrior and sneaks a final glance at the glowering dancer in his arms but opts not to reply, bobbing a quick curtsy and taking her leave. Once she is out of earshot, Olberic releases the laughter he's been holding back. The dancer turns to face him, arching her eyebrow with a smirk. "Something amusing?"

"Never change, Prim." She scoffs at him and he grins down at her, clasping her hand and leading her out of the tavern and onto the street. He does his level best to ignore the stares from the soldiers and citizens as they pass by, though he cannot resist leaving his hand on the small of Primrose's back as they stroll towards the inn. The low-slung belt of hammered gold discs chime softly as her hips sway in that effortlessly seductive saunter of hers. Even off the stage she drew covetous eyes wherever she went and the normally stoic knight was far from immune to her allure. He was about to suggest a brief respite at the inn when a pair of men step directly into their path, driving the butts of their spears into the dirt.

"Oi, hold up there you two. You the ones who've been questioning people about Lord Erhardt?" one of them demands.

Olberic steps in front of Primrose reflexively, his stance wary. "Who's asking?"

"This is them, they fit the description," the other guard mutters.

"What do you want with Lord Erhardt?" the first man asks.

The knight considers his options briefly. More guards are closing in, drawn by the growing crowd of onlookers. While cutting through the lot of them would be little trouble for him, he was more than a little curious at the reverent tone the villagers had all taken when speaking about his former brother-in-arms and he recognized that if he took an aggressive stance now, he would likely have to fight through every man standing to get to the one he sought. These people were innocent and he had no desire to visit violence upon them. _The truth, then, or at least a part of it_ , he decides. "Erhardt is an old friend. We fought together years ago. I'd heard he was in the area so I thought to see for myself."

The guards looked at each other in surprise, relaxing almost instantly. "Well why didn't you say so!" the first man exclaims. "His Lordship isn't around right now, he doesn't come to town often these days. Lizard men, you know. Captain Bale can direct you to him, most likely. Come along, we'll take you to him."

Olberic glances back at Primrose who lifts one shoulder in a shrug and takes her place at his side again. They fall into step behind the pair of amiably chatting guardsmen and make their way up the street towards a long building at the far end of the oasis. Once inside, they are quickly presented to Captain Bale, a neatly attired man of medium stature. The guards explain the situation and Bale dismisses them, offering refreshment to his guests with a smile.

"You'll have to forgive them for accosting you in such a way, my Lord. Our Lord Erhardt is something of a local legend, the people here are very protective of him. You made quite a few people nervous today, asking after him the way you did." Bale sits on the edge of his desk, eyeing the big man curiously. "He's not here, as I'm sure you've heard by now."

"Just so," Olberic replies evenly. "He would be hard to miss if he was."

"Indeed. One need only look for the cluster of swooning women to know when he's come to visit. I suspect more than half of the outrage this morning came from jealous tavern wenches when they got a look at your friend here. No offense intended, m'lady," he adds quickly, glancing at Primrose. "He's a particular favorite among the ladies. I'd be lying if I said we all weren't a bit jealous, but it's just how he is."

"So I've heard. They have nothing to worry about, Captain. Rest assured, I have absolutely no designs on Erhardt." She crosses her legs and leans back in her chair, running her eyes meaningfully over Olberic and taking a slow sip of her tea.

Bale clears his throat, his eyes flicking back and forth between the pair. "I see. Well, that will surely ease the tension a bit! You two caused quite a stir. So. My men inform me that you and his Lordship are old friends. Is he expecting you to come calling, or...?" He lets the question hang in the air.

"Erhardt and I lost touch many years ago. I expect this visit will come as something of a surprise," Olberic says, choosing his words carefully.

Bale nods slowly. "I see." He crosses his arms over his chest, watching the knight closely. "Not all surprises are pleasant, though. Before I tell you any more, I'd like to know why you're really here, Lord Olberic. Yes, I know who you are. I may be stuck in this backwater, but I am not unaware of the world around me and men the like of the Twin Blades of Hornburg only come along once in a generation, if that. I am not a fool. Speak truthfully: why are you here, why now?"

Olberic is about to respond when the door bursts open, admitting a new pair of soldiers. "Captain Bale! Captain, you're needed at once!"

Bale and Olberic are on their feet in an instant, hands at their swords. "Report," the captain commands.

"Those beasts sir, they're swarming. I've never seen numbers like this. They've kicked up a dust storm over the western hill, they're coming right at the town!"

Bale grimaces. "Where is Lord Erhardt, has anyone seen him?"

The guard shifts nervously from foot to foot. "He's in the caves, sir. Alone. He came back to warn us that they were mustering and then made for the nests. Said he'd cut right to the source this time, stop them for good and all."

"Brand preserve him," Bale mutters. "He'll be overwhelmed. Rally the men, we need to throw everything we have at these monsters. All hands."

One of the men dashes out the door to relay his orders. Olberic steps forward, his hand on his sword hilt. "I am at your disposal, Captain, if you wish to have me. I swear on my sword to protect the people of this town with my life if needs be."

The captain claps a hand on the knight's shoulder with a grim smile. "Honored to have you with us, Lord Olberic. Truly." He turns back to his remaining guards, his voice steady and clear as he begins issuing commands. "We depart immediately. Sound the alarm." He marches through the door without a backward glance, Primrose and Olberic at his heels.


	15. Chapter 15

Wave after wave of lizard men charge at them, and wave after wave crumble under the deadly combination of steel and dark magic. The Wellspring guards quickly clean up anything that somehow manages to slip past the devastating pair at the front and within the hour the group stands in front of a large cave mouth which reeks of carrion and reptile.

As Captain Bale begins organizing defensive lines outside the cavern, Primrose approaches Olberic who is staring into the darkness. She lays a hand on his gauntleted fist and his eyes flick towards her for the briefest moment before resuming their silent vigil.

"Bale says he's gone in there alone," she says quietly.

Olberic nods.

She looks over her shoulder at the guardsmen and then turns her attention back to the warrior at her side. "What do you want to do?"

He tightens his grip around his sword hilt but doesn't respond.

"Olberic, I-" she begins cautiously.

"I'm going in," he says, his deep voice devoid of all emotion. "This has the potential to be an ugly fight. Would you prefer to stay here and assist Captain Bale? I will not fault you, I doubt the battle will be any less thick out here and they can surely use your help."

She frowns up at him. "Do you seriously think I'm going to sit out here while you go inside alone?"

"I have no idea what awaits us in there, Prim," he replies, raking a hand through his hair.

"All the more reason that I should be at your side, where I belong." She plants her fists on her hips, her decision made. "We're losing daylight here, Sir Olberic. What's it going to be?"

He rolls his neck and stretches his shoulders with a low grunt, then nods. "Let's go."

Things begin to move along very quickly. Bale and Olberic exchange words briefly, clasping forearms, and the captain bows to Primrose before rejoining his men, his expression grim but determined. Before long, the couple is making their way through the cave, the flickering torchlight illuminating piles of bones and other things best left unexamined in every alcove. Clearly, scores of the beasts reside inside the tunnels, though barely any of the creatures attempt to thwart the pair as they steadily press onwards.

"This feels wrong," Primrose mutters, her voice pitched low. "Where are they? Surely we did not kill them all already...?"

Olberic shakes his head with a frown. "No. I suspect they are occupied elsewhere. The question is where, exactly, or more to the point..." He pauses, tilting his head and listening to something in the distance. "With whom." He frowns, taking a step towards a fork in the tunnels. "This way. That sounded like metal striking metal."

They hurry along, the torch casting lurching shadows on the walls as it bobs in Primrose's hand. The barely discernable sounds of combat grow steadily louder until they round a final bend and overlook a long series of steps leading to a large platform. Lizard men lay dead and dying, scattered to either side of the chamber. At the center, a tall blond dressed in a sweeping black surcoat over a blood red tunic swings his gleaming broadsword about him in a graceful arc, deftly removing a beast's head and adding yet another corpse to the pile. Without so much as a sideways glance he resumes a ready position, his sword balanced in front of him at an angle to intercept any attacks aimed at him from the ring of monsters closing in on him. His fluid, confident movements and obvious skill with a blade leave no doubt in the dancer's mind as to his identity, and she is utterly unsurprised when Olberic strides forward woodenly to join him, drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

"Erhardt," he rasps, raw emotions choking him.

The fair-haired knight turns his head towards the sound of his name, shock washing over his handsome features. "Olberic...!" he gasps. "What in the gods' names are you doing here?"

"Later," Olberic intones, nodding grimly at the remaining beasts. "Let's take care of this first."

The knights make astonishingly fast work of the lizard men and lower their weapons, facing each other at last. Primrose slowly picks her way to Olberic's side, casually stepping around the carnage to stand beside him. Erhardt runs his eyes over her briefly, curiosity evident in his deep blue eyes as he nods politely in greeting but his full attention shifts back to his former brother-in-arms as Olberic begins to speak.

"How long has it been, Erhardt?" Olberic says, his rich voice echoing off the cavern walls.

"Long. Too long...Ah," Erhardt replies, his words trailing off uncomfortably as memories rise of their last meeting. _Use your eyes, man! The King is dead, by_ my _hand!_  "Listen, Olberic-"

"I need to-" the black-haired warrior begins.

A deafening series of roars erupts from both sides of the cavern. Something was coming and the force of its approach shook the very walls. Instinctively, with the reflexes born of years of training and going to war by each other's sides, both men simultaneously draw their blades and assume their familiar fighting stances positioned back to back with Primrose between them. The dancer smiles at the spectacle of her father's long ago tales of the legendary Twin Blades of Hornburg coming to life right before her eyes even as a dark miasma surrounds her, the beginning incantations of a spell tumbling from her lips.

"Finally! Those are the leaders of the horde," Erhardt explains. "If we slay them, the rest will be easy to disperse."

"To work, then. I'll take the right," Olberic says, catching Primrose's eye.

"Then the left is mine. Be careful, they are more cunning than they appear. When they fight together," he says, glancing over his shoulder at his old friend, "they are stronger than the sum of their parts."

Something seems to pass between the men at these words, some deeper undercurrent of truth that seems to melt through some of the palpable tension. Primrose's gaze flicks from one to the other as the moment hangs in the air. Olberic opens his mouth to reply but another roar thunders through the air and both knights turn away again, heading off to face down the threat with a last teasing admonishment to each other to try not to get killed in the process.

Primrose lets go of a breath that she didn't know she was holding and catches up to Olberic, her long legs trotting briskly to match his determined stride. A thousand thoughts race through her mind but it was hardly the time to voice them. A truly massive beast lay in wait just ahead, flanked by a pair of giant cohorts, and all of her lover's considerable focus was trained on the fight ahead of them. Untangling the complexities of his relationship with Erhardt would have to wait. 

   
  


* * *

 

Despite putting up a desperate fight, in the end the chieftain of the lizard men was completely out of its depths. Olberic took a moment to contemplate the fallen creature, reflecting that even this seemingly primitive monster had given its life to protect those in its charge. Perhaps it really was that simple. Perhaps it fell to the strong to protect the weak, to lay down their lives if necessary, so that others might go on.

Absently he cleans the gore from his blade, lost in thought. He looks up as he sheathes his sword and catches Primrose's eye, concern written all over her lovely face. "Are you hurt?" he asks.

She shakes her head, crossing over to his side. "How do you think Erhardt fared?"

He barks a short laugh. "I doubt he has a scratch on him. These creatures are no match for the likes of us. Their only hope was to overwhelm us with numbers. It's over for them now."

She nods slowly. "So...what happens now?"

"Now? Now, he meets his fate at my hands." He leads her out of the antechamber, heading back for the center platform where they had found Erhardt earlier.

"You told Gustav you would listen to what he had to say. Do you intend to do so, still?" she asks quietly, gazing up at him.

He stops suddenly, turning to face her. "What do you want from me, Prim? I cannot just walk in there and forget what he's done. The blood of my king is on his hands. The blood of my entire nation! Men, women, children, an entire people gone forever. Because of what? Because he blamed King Alfred for the loss of his childhood home?"

"Would you have not done the same, were the roles reversed?" she lifts her chin, looking him squarely in the eye. "What lengths would you go to to see justice served? How many people have you killed in service to a throne? How many have either of us killed to mete out justice on our own terms?" He bristles slightly and she steps forward, slipping her arms around his waist. Her proximity and touch has an immediate effect on him, instantly calming him and allowing her words to begin to sink in. "I'm not telling you what to do, gods above know I would be a hypocrite to tell you to spare him when my own hands are stained red and will be drenched again soon enough. Know that I love you and will support you no matter what you decide to do...or not do. Just listen to him, please. Some things cannot be undone, some choices cannot be unmade." She rises on her toes to press a tentative kiss to his lips.

He rests his forehead against hers momentarily, closing his eyes with a sigh. "I will listen to what he has to say, though I cannot imagine what justification he might have for his actions."

"I will leave the matter of justification up to you, I suppose, but if you are ready to hear me then I am ready to speak." Erhardt approaches the couple, his arms relaxed and at his sides. "I do thank you, lovely lady, for advocating on my behalf, but I am not sure that I deserve your faith. Still, the gesture is deeply appreciated." He offers Primrose a polite bow then straightens and turns back to Olberic, his expression one of calm resignation. "So. How did you find me, old friend?"

"Gustav told me where you were. He told me a lot of things," Olberic replies.

"I see. So you heard about Grynd, then. About the day my whole life went up in flames, the day King Alfred did _nothing_  while my family, my friends...everyone I'd ever known burned. Do you know they all died crying out for their king? So sure that help was on the way?" Erhardt stares into the darkness, lost in memories. "The king never came. Mercenaries did, though. They plucked me from the ashes, raised me as one of them, trained me up, and I was grateful for it. One day, the leader came to me with an idea for revenge. I was all too happy to do my part."

Olberic stares at him, aghast. "Do you mean to tell me that you knew how this would end all along? You came to us with this black notion already in your heart?"

"Do you want to know the worst of it, brother? After it was done, after the king lay at my feet, after I defeated you and walked away from it all...I had nothing left. The mercenaries disbanded in the chaos of Hornburg's fall, and I was alone again. My memories of the times I'd spent with you and the men felt more real than anything else, and it was all lost to me forever by my own deeds. I'd thought that finally serving out my revenge would set me free to live my life in peace, but all it did was expose the emptiness inside. I'd nursed my bitterness for so long that it was all that I knew." He turns to face them, his blue eyes sorrowful. "I won't ask for your forgiveness, nor your pity. I deserve neither. Truthfully, I am not even certain why you're still willing to listen after everything I've done, everything you've lost. Whatever your reasoning for standing here now, I'm thankful for it. Seeing you again, seeing that you've found someone to share your life...it's the closest I've felt to peace since that bloody day."

"Who was the leader? The one who put you up to it?" Primrose gazes at the blond knight with a thoughtful frown.

Both men look at her in surprise. "Werner," Erhardt replies. "His name is Werner."

"And where is this Werner now?" she asks, her voice low and deadly.

Olberic stares at her for a moment before nodding. "He took you in, raised you up with a single goal in mind, and then executed a decades' long plan that brought our entire kingdom to utter collapse. Thousands of innocents dead, for what? Why?"

Erhardt blinks slowly, considering this turn. "I've no idea what his motivation was. He offered me a chance to exact my revenge and I leapt at it."

"Where is he now?" Olberic asks.

"Olberic. Leave it be," Erhardt says. "Revenge for revenge's sake will leave you where I am standing now. I've no right to ask you to learn from my mistakes, but..."

"A man like that, a man who engineered the death of an entire kingdom, cannot be allowed to walk freely. Brand knows what he will do next, what he is already setting into motion! Someone like that does not simply go quietly into retirement," Olberic argues. "Where is he, Erhardt?"

"Riverford. The last I heard, he'd dubbed himself _Lord_ Werner and moved to take over Riverford." Erhardt sighs. "Have a care when you go after him, Olberic. He fights like nothing I've ever seen. It's not just skill and strength, there is something about him that strikes terror into a man's heart. Bloody unnatural."

The black-haired knight chuckles, clapping a hand on the blond's shoulder. "I will manage," he replies confidently. "I've grown in skill since you and I last crossed blades."

Erhardt grins at him, nodding. "I imagine you have."

"Although that reminds me. There is just one more thing I need to discuss with you before we put all this behind us," Olberic says.

The blond knight quirks an eyebrow at him curiously.

"Draw your sword, Erhardt. For once and all, let us fight," the taller warrior intones.

"I will hold nothing back, Olberic. You know I will not," Erhardt replies calmly.

"I would expect nothing less, old friend," he answers, drawing his sword and squaring off as Primrose moves away from the warriors with a frown. He raises his weapon in a formal salute before settling into a ready stance. "In victory, truth!"


	16. Chapter 16

Primrose had seen Olberic fight dozens of opponents, both man and beast, over the course of their travels these last few months. Several of these battles had pushed their group to the very limits of their endurance, requiring a coordinated effort and combined tactics to bring down their foe. The unflinchingly bold knight was never a man to shy away from a challenger and would cheerfully accept a duel anytime, regardless of the odds. His confidence was contagious and rightly so; to this point, the dancer had never seen anyone match his skill.

Not until she saw Olberic face off against Erhardt, that is.

Their styles were remarkably similar which was not a big surprise given their history and how long they had trained together. Olberic was taller and more powerfully built, a fact that Primrose (and the warmth uncoiling in her belly as she dwelled on the memory of those muscles) could happily attest to. What Erhardt lacked in sheer mass in comparison to his counterpart he more than made up for in speed. They wasted no time circling, taunting, or sizing each other up; they had been here before on the practice fields many, many times, and once in earnest. They knew each other better than they knew themselves in some ways, and despite the long years of separation and resentment, the moment their blades connected, all the pain and loss fell away and suddenly they were home.

Of course, that wasn't going to get in the way of a good fight.

In the end, with a howl fit to make the heavens tremble and a final vicious flurry of strikes, Erhardt was disarmed and thrown down and Olberic was victorious. The black-haired knight stands over his rival, panting as the adrenaline coursing through his veins slowly began to subside.

"I...I yield," Erhardt gasps, clutching his side. Their eyes meet over Olberic's blade and for just a moment, Primrose was unsure how the day was going to end. She sighs in relief when Olberic sheathes his weapon smoothly, leaning down to clasp forearms with Erhardt and tug him to his feet.

Seeing that whatever tension was left between the knights is gone, Primrose picks up Erhardt's sword and crosses over to him, flipping it in her hand to present it hilt first.

He accepts it with a smile, offering a courtly bow in return. "My thanks, m'lady...?"

"Primrose," she replies smoothly.

Olberic reaches for her, pulling her to his side. She tugs affectionately at the stray lock of hair dangling over his forehead, leaning into him with a smile. Olberic clears his throat, embarrassed. "Ah, right. Forgive me. Erhardt, allow me to present Lady Primrose Azelhart of Noblecourt. She and I have been traveling together for some time, alongside some other folks who I am certain you will meet soon enough."

"Traveling companions, eh?" Erhardt says, eyeing the dancer appreciatively as he sheathes his sword. "All of a sudden I find myself questioning my decision to settle down in Wellspring for any length of time."

She laughs softly, shaking her head. "We already heard half the women in town singing your praises, Sir Erhardt. Somehow, I feel as though you are doing alright for yourself here."

"Only half?" Erhardt gasps, clutching his heart in mock horror. "Gods above, I must be slipping," he grins wryly at her. "The circumstances could have been better, admittedly, but it truly is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Primrose."

"It could have been a lot worse. I am grateful to have the opportunity to know you. Please, though...just Prim, or Primrose, if you must," she replies. "The three of us will exhaust ourselves stumbling over titles if we do not draw a line somewhere, and my lineage calls to mind a time I'd rather not dwell on."

"Fair enough, Prim, and likewise." He glances at Olberic, his handsome face growing serious. "Tis a strange thing. I fought with everything I had, but it seemed you were protected by a greater power...and yet, for the first time in a long time, I regret nothing."

"Aye," Olberic nods.

The blond runs a hand through his unruly locks, a gesture so familiar to Primrose that she cannot help but laugh. Both men turn to peer at her quizzically and she shrugs one shoulder with a grin. "So, as much as I'm enjoying the ambiance here, are you boys finished? Everything out of your systems now?" she asks, a teasing tone in her sultry voice. "If we stay here any longer, Bale is likely to send a search party."

"You're not wrong," Erhardt says, heading for the exit. "Come along, you two. I don't know about you, but I could surely use a drink."   
  


* * *

 

After a brief but jubilant reunion with the soldiers outside the cave, Bale leads the way back to town. Olberic rests his large hand on the small of Primrose's back as they walk, idly tracing tiny, deliberate patterns on her bare skin. The gentle movements of his calloused fingertips coupled with the warmth that suffuses her whenever he is close by are driving her to distraction and she is grateful that all of the attention is focused on her male companions for once.

Word of their return spreads quickly and Wellspring takes on a festive air as the locals begin preparing a celebratory feast for that afternoon. After their offers to assist are politely but firmly rebuffed, Erhardt declares that he is off for the tavern, a statement that turns the heads of several of the younger women. Olberic hesitates, glancing down at Primrose who appears lost in thought beside him.

"We'll join you shortly," Olberic says. Erhardt flashes a knowing grin and claps him on the shoulder before allowing a pair of bubbly dark-haired girls to lead him inside. The taller knight shakes his head in amusement. "Now this truly feels like old times," he remarks with a chuckle.

"Hm?" Primrose replies, focusing her attention on him. "What's that?"

"He always managed to find an alehouse and some...company after a fight," he replies. "It appears he hasn't lost his touch in the years since I've seen him."

"Oh? No drinking and carousing for you, then?" she asks quietly, slipping her arms around his neck and gazing up at him through her lashes. "My sweet choir boy. How you must have suffered."

"Choir boy, indeed." Olberic pulls her against him, running his hands down her sides and resting them on her waist. "I gave in to those urges occasionally, who wouldn't? I just never enjoyed the endless parade of women the way Erhardt did." She flashes a coquettish smile at him and his fingers tighten slightly. "Perhaps I was waiting for something better." He leans in, drawing her into a slow kiss and releasing her with a low groan a long moment later.

"Good answer," she purrs.

He brushes her lower lip with his thumb, his eyes dark. "Would it be rude to be late to our own party?"

"Oh, I am sure they can live without us for a little while," she murmurs, twining her fingers through his and leading him towards the inn.

They barely make it two steps into their room before Olberic kicks the door shut, grabbing Primrose and capturing her lips in a deep kiss. She begins tugging at his sword belt, her nimble fingers making short work of the buckles and tossing it aside, quickly followed by his tabard. Olberic chuckles as she fumbles with the straps binding his breastplate and covers her hands with his, gently pushing them aside and removing the armor himself with practiced movements.

"I'm amazed that you can even move under all of this," she mutters, pulling his shirt over his head to finally expose his skin. She runs her hands over the broad planes of his chest, humming appreciatively as his muscles twitch under her gentle touch.

"I hardly even notice it anymore," he replies, his deep voice rumbling out of his chest. Steel grey eyes intent on hers, he guides her backwards until her shoulders touch the wall. She reaches behind her neck to unclasp her dress and the gauzy material slides over her hips and drops to the floor. He closes the gap between them again, bracing his hands against the wall to either side of her and claiming her lips roughly as her hands slip into his waistband and wrap around his hard length. He breaks the kiss with a groan and she smiles against his lips, squeezing him steadily once more before releasing him, unfastening his pants and tugging them down.

He grips her hips and lifts her effortlessly, her legs eagerly wrapping around his waist. The tip of his cock slips inside her and she tilts her pelvis with a contented sigh, crossing her ankles to draw him in deeper until he is buried to the hilt. He holds still momentarily, watching her face, giving her time to adjust.

Her pulse pounds in her ears, her whole body throbbing in time with his. She drags her nails up his back and over his shoulders, scratching faint lines into his skin before tangling them in his hair. She tugs his head back and bends her mouth to his, nipping at his lower lip and shifting restlessly against him, desperate for him to move. "Please," she purrs into his mouth. "I need--"

Suddenly he pulls back and snaps his hips upwards. Her answering moan spurs him on and he repeats the motion, shifting his position to grip her upper thighs and brace her against the wall. She leans back, soft moans giving way to gasps and sharp cries as she voices her pleasure, her breasts heaving as he thrusts into her.

Gods help him, but he loved that bounce.

He knew she was getting close by the way her whole body tensed, arms and legs wrapping around him until all he could feel was her, all he could hear was her throaty voice whispering his name like a prayer, begging him not to stop. She clings to him as he relentlessly pumps into her, sharp white teeth sinking into his shoulder as her body crests that final wave and she comes apart in his arms. He finally succumbs to his own release a moment later, shuddering to a stop as she slowly relaxes her grip on his body.

He holds her against him a little while longer, unwilling to put her down just yet. She nuzzles his neck with a contented sigh, running her fingers through his hair and tugging on the ends affectionately. "You're going to have to let me go at some point, you know. Otherwise it's going to be very awkward when someone comes up here to see what's taking so long," she murmurs against his ear.

He chuckles softly, gently disengaging from her and setting her feet on the floor in front of him. She reaches up, taking his face in both of her hands and presses a gentle kiss to his lips. She turns and starts to reach for her discarded clothing but he stops her, his expression unreadable. She straightens, her eyebrows knitted in a concerned frown. "Olberic? What is it?"

"I love you," he says quietly. Primrose's eyes widen in surprise and for a moment he forgets to breathe. His mind races, desperately searching for something else to say, until her lips quirk upward in a beatific smile, brightening her features and lifting a weight off his heart that he wasn't aware of until that moment.

"Oh, Olberic," she breathes. "I love you, too."


	17. Chapter 17

Later that same evening, after the feast has ended and most of the village has turned in, the main room of Wellspring's tavern buzzes as the remainder celebrates the day's victory alongside Bale and his men. It is a far more subdued affair in one corner of the room, however, where Olberic and Erhardt are putting a deep dent in the town's ale supplies while swapping stories about their lives before Hornburg's fall to an enraptured audience. As the night wears on it becomes clear that the Twin Blades' incredible capacity for alcohol surpasses the reputation they earned on the battlefield and the crowd rapidly begins to dissolve until only Primrose and the knights remain.

"Another round?" Olberic asks, his voice booming through the nearly empty room. He rises to his feet with barely a wobble, striding off towards the bar without waiting for an answer. Primrose watches his departure with half-lidded eyes, a smile playing about her lips.

"So," Erhardt begins, setting his mug down. "I know I cannot talk this thick-headed fool out of anything once he sets his mind to it, I'm hoping for his sake you can be more persuasive." He leans his elbows on his knees, steepling his fingers and gazing at Primrose thoughtfully. "Riverford. Werner. Tell me you are not running there right now to confront him."

"Right now, I am finishing my wine and contemplating taking that thick-headed fool back to bed before he drinks himself into a stupor," she drawls, shifting slightly and crossing her long legs. His deep blue eyes follow her movement closely and then flick upwards to meet her knowing gaze.

"He is a lucky man," he says. She laughs softly and he flashes an abashed grin at her.

"You have no idea," she replies, her sultry voice low.

"Really, though, Primrose. Listen--" he begins.

"No," she says firmly, draining her glass and setting it down. "You listen. I don't intend to try and dissuade him, but I also will not let him go after this Werner unprepared. I may not have the long history that you have with him, but Olberic means the world to me. I don't know if I would have made it out of Noblecourt alive without him. Rest assured, his days of facing trouble alone are over."

Erhardt raises his mug to her, a solemn look on his handsome face. "He is a very lucky man," he says quietly.

"Yes, I am. Extremely lucky. Except I'm told that this is our last round so we need to make it count," Olberic says, depositing a fresh round of drinks on the table. "What are we talking about?"

"Taking you to bed," Primrose replies. The normally stoic knight had left sobriety behind hours ago and it was impossible to avoid provoking the rarely seen mirthful side of him.

Olberic blinks at her and then bursts out laughing. "Both of you? I'm not sure there is enough ale left for that."

Erhardt snorts at him. "It's for the best, I'd hate to shame you in front of Primrose. She seems rather attached to you despite my best efforts at stealing her away for myself. Poor lass."

"I was telling Erhardt about Cobbleston, how we met," Primrose says, as Olberic settles onto the bench beside her. "He is laboring under the delusion that you are lucky to have found me when it was very clearly the other way around."

Olberic grins broadly. "My dear, there is not a man alive who would take your side on this one, I'm sorry to tell you."

She swats at him half-heartedly and he catches her wrist, pulling her close and resting his hand on her knee. She nestles into his shoulder and sips her wine.

"Before you stumbled upon Olberic, you lived in Sunshade, yes?" At Primrose's slight nod, Erhardt continues, "To think I was so close for so long and missed out on the chance to meet you first. Fate is a cruel mistress."

"Indeed she is," she replies. "Still, it would not have changed anything. Pretty though you are, I would not have been distracted from my purpose."

"Perhaps not. It certainly would have been fun trying, though," he says with a wry grin. "Alas, I will have to settle for the joy in knowing that my brother has finally found himself a worthy companion and the small comfort that she finds me 'pretty'." He tips his mug to her with a wink and she inclines her head, raising her own glass and then draining it. "And what of the rest of your companions?" Erhardt asks.

"I am sure they will also find you pretty," Primrose says blandly.

Olberic laughs, his fingertips ghosting over her leg and settling a bit further up her thigh. His proximity and wandering hands were beginning to get the better of her again, the dull ache between her legs driving her thoughts.

"No, I meant..." he begins and then gives up, shaking his head. "Are you going to meet up with them soon? Before...?"  
  
"Ah, yes. Werner," Olberic rumbles. "We need to take care of Werner."

"Of course, and we will. Soon. I think Erhardt is right, though, we should gather the others first." She slides her hand up and around the inside of Olberic's bicep and squeezes lightly.

Olberic's gaze lingers on her hand for a moment before his eyes lock onto hers. "We cannot let him go free after what he has done."

"No, we cannot, and we will not. Think of the others, they will come looking for us soon and suspect the worst if we do not meet up with them. As we promised to do." She tilts her head, searching his eyes. "I have unfinished business as well, you know. I will help you see yours through until the end, but the time has to be right."

Olberic nods, his eyes dark and focused on her lips. "Fair enough."

They sit in comfortable silence for a few minutes, the quiet settling around them like a blanket. Erhardt leans back, his long legs crossed at the ankle in front of him. "So. Where are you off to then, if not Riverford?"

"Bolderfall. We are to regroup in Bolderfall after they finish some business in the Frostlands," Primrose replies.

Erhardt ponders this briefly. "The rivers run high this time of year, so you will pass through Orewell."

Olberic nods. "Just so."

"The Cliftlands paths are overrun or so I hear. Dangerous route, that," the blond says, studying his friend closely.

Olberic grins at him, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "Dangerous? To whom? I rather look forward to the exercise. Another sword is always welcome, though, if you would like to come along."

Erhardt chuckles at him, taking a long drink before replying. "Olberic...you know I cannot join you, much as I would like to. There's still work to be done here, the people need help."

"I know. No harm in asking though," he says. "No worries, the rest of the group is more than capable, I have no doubt about their abilities. I look forward to introducing you to them one day." He sips at his ale, his expression thoughtful. "It has been ages since I was that far west, though. Have you traveled there recently?"

The conversation quickly shifted to travel routes, enemy tactics, and provisions as the men slid seamlessly back into their roles from the days of their military campaigns in Hornburg. As much as Primrose was enjoying the newfound enthusiasm in her lover's eyes as he and Erhardt rekindle their friendship, the wine and the day's events were taking their toll. She gently extricates herself from Olberic's side to stand up, the men rising to their feet immediately with the manners and reflexes born of long years at court. "It is getting late," she murmurs, "and I think that I am going to go lie down. You boys and your plans are exhausting." She stretches slowly and slips her arms around Olberic's neck, drawing him down to her. "You should come keep me company before too long, if you are up to the task," she purrs into his ear.

Abruptly she turns and saunters away, heading directly for the inn, raising one hand in farewell without so much as a backward glance. Olberic is left staring after her, his mouth slightly ajar. Erhardt laughs and shoves him lightly, startling him out of his reverie. "You're not going to get a better offer tonight, best go after her. Remind me later to ask you exactly how you managed to land that one, old friend. Gods above, she is something else."

"If I ever figure it out, I will let you know," Olberic replies with a chuckle. Without waiting for a response, he hastens after the dancer, his steps as light as his heart.


End file.
